Invictus
by TigrisIgnis
Summary: For international journalist Lana Rey the unreal becomes reality as she finds herself in a world not her own. Middle Earth is on the brink of war. A secret Fellowship of Nine quest to destroy an object of unbelievable power: The Ring of Sauron. The battle to find a way home is confounded by the need to survive as Lana struggles through a war unlike anything she has ever seen.
1. Preface, Author's Note, & Disclaimer

Author's Note

Please Read FIRST

* * *

This is in essence a fan fiction of a fan fiction. The original "**Mysterious Fate**" written by the clever **Cormak3032** was never completed. This is my version of her story, which I love dearly, and which I wanted to see finished. I started continuing her story five years ago out of the desire to see this wonderful fanfic have a conclusion. It has since grown as I've explored this story line further, expanded on the characters, and in some small ways made it my own. But this wouldn't have been possible with out Tolkien's beautiful creation, and Cormak's original idea. So for that I humbly bow and defer to them.

My version follows Cormak's story nearly to the letter until Chapter 37 where hers ended abruptly. (And on a cliff hanger! Oh the agony!)

All the credit for the idea, plot line, and dialogue belongs to Cormak until that point. I do not claim it. I have tweaked the story to suit my character Lana Rey. She fulfils my desire to see a strong but complicated and interesting female character in a fanfic. Lana does not resemble Cormak's Kaitlyn in anything other than plot line.

I highly recommend reading Cormak's original story.

I want to iterate again that I (and I would dare to say all) LOTR fan fiction writers bow down to the genius that is Tolkien. Middle Earth, its peoples, histories, languages and characters are his. I just like playing there.

Lana Rey is a character of my own creation. She only bares resemblance to the singer Lana del Rey in a shared name, minus the "del".

This is a 10th Walker LOTR fanfic. It borrows from both the book and Peter Jackson film cannon.

* * *

_Out of the night that covers me,_

_Black as the pit from pole to pole,_

_I thank whatever gods may be_

_For my unconquerable soul._

_In the fell clutch of circumstance_

_I have not winced nor cried aloud._

_Under the bludgeonings of chance_

_My head is bloody, but unbowed._

_Beyond this place of wrath and tears_

_Looms but the Horror of the shade,_

_And yet the menace of the years_

_Finds and shall find me unafraid._

_It matters not how strait the gate,_

_How charged with punishments the scroll,_

_I am the master of my fate,_

_I am the captain of my soul._

**William E. Henley**

* * *

_**Preface:**_

Is it possible that another universe can coexist beside our own? And what if there was a tear in the fascia between these realities? In theory one could fall through such a hole and end up on the other side.

There are stories around the world of portals to other lands. Something must have prompted these legends.

For international journalist Lana Rey the unreal becomes reality as she finds herself in a world not her own. Middle Earth is on the brink of war and a secret Fellowship of Nine have abandoned their refuge on a secret quest to destroy an object of unbelievable power: The Ring of Sauron.

The battle to find a way home is confounded by the need to survive, as Lana journeys unwillingly with this ragtag group. Through fire, water, tears, and blood she sees war for the first time as a participant.


	2. An Encounter

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story. **

I make no claim to Tolkien's works_._ I also give credit to Cormak3032.

* * *

**Chapter 1: An Encounter **

The rumbling ceased with a finality made all the more frightening by the darkness that now enclosed them. It was like the sealing of a tomb. The only noise now came from their collective panting. Their hearts were pounding so furiously that they were certain the constellate noise would echo throughout the mines.

Out of the pitch came a resigned voice. "Now we must face the long dark of Moria," spoke Gandalf the Grey.

Like a flare, a light on the end of the wizard's staff kindled. Within the radius of its glow, the frightened faces of a rag-tag company were revealed. Dazed and dismayed they looked to their leader for comfort and guidance but his face was set in grim lines. The resignation in the wizard's voice did little to dispel the dread that settled in their hearts.

"Quietly now!" He cautioned tersely. "It is a four day journey to the other side. Let us hope our presence goes unnoticed."

Collecting themselves, the Fellowship filed behind Gandalf. Their feet moved reluctantly but as the wizard had said, there was no choice now but to go forward into the gloom. They entered the bowels of the mountains, clinging to the scant light provided by Gandalf's staff.

Yet as they marched through the decrepit glory that was once the heart of Dwarfdom, they could not help but wonder at its corroded majesty. From what they could see, a craftsmanship unlike anywhere else in Middle Earth was dimly revealed. The walls were masterfully carved and there was a sense of decayed grandeur. Gimli son of Glóin, the lone dwarf of the Fellowship, felt his heart swell first with pride as he looked upon the heritage of his kin. But great sorrow chased that pride—for all had fallen into decay and ruin.

Where were his kinsfolk?

The oppressing dark dampened even his indomitable spirit. Behind him the four hobbits looked about, captivated by everything they saw. Bred and born of rolling hills and simpler halls they never could have imaged a city such as this. All that they knew were Bilbo's tales of the Lonely Mountain far away in Erebor. Moria, it seemed, was much grander. Howbeit, the ancient city now was only a shell of its former splendor.

As for Boromir of Gondor, he felt a deep anger pool in his heart. If only they had gone _his_ way, they could have avoided this. The Gap of Rohan would surely have been safer than this treacherous path! His lips thinned as he marched. His eyes, while not as keen as an elf's, pierced the shadows distrustfully. The oppressive silence weighed heavily on his shoulders. Restless energy caused his fingers to drum on the white horn that hung opposite his sword.

His eyes shifted to Frodo. The hobbit shadowed Gandalf closely looking fearfully about. _As well he should!_ An irrational choler rose in his gullet startling him. This was not the first time he had felt strange since starting this journey. Unnerved he forced away the acrimonious feeling. Instead, he focused all his attention on their surroundings. It would not do to be caught unawares in this dark place.

The Dúnedain Ranger, Aragorn son of Arathorn, was resigned although he longed for a breath of fresh air and the light of day. He had walked many paths in his years—some better than others. But few of them led underground. He hoped that this trek into the dark would not turn into a nightmare. He trusted Gandalf to see them through. But even his unflappable nature was disturbed by the darkness, though he hid it better than the rest.

The lone elf in the group, who was fearless in the face of any adversity, felt oddly uneasy. The aberrant sensation was so foreign to Legolas Thranduilion that it caused him to walk rigidly. Although his father's halls were underground, they did not have the oppressive feeling of this place. His light eyes scoured the shadows even as his ears strained to hear any sound of danger. A warning nipped at his thoughts though he could not find a reason for it. And that in itself made his nerves jump.

Straining his senses he tried to pierce the gloom, but even his heightened abilities had limits. His fingers tightened around his Mirkwood bow causing his knuckles to stand out. But his face was smooth as glass, betraying nothing of his inner turmoil.

It was on their fourth day that Legolas heard something during one of their rests. Under the incessant whispering of Merry and Pippin, he heard it, a soft rhythm—_footsteps_.

Straightening, he peered into the darkness. Aragorn materialized over his shoulder.

_"Man hlardh?" _The man whispered. _What do you hear?_

Their combined focus drew the attention of the Fellowship. Legolas shut out the whispers and shushes of the hobbits. Concentrating he singled out the soft noise that worried him.

"Something draws near," the elf murmured softly. "It moves with light steps,"

"What could it be?" Sam asked worriedly. "Not goblins, I hope!"

Gandalf, unlike the rest, seemed deep in contemplation and completely unconcerned. Intent on his thoughts, he sent out his senses to determine what followed them. His lips drew together in a terse line.

Boromir put a hand on his sword. "We should drive it off, whatever it is."

Aragorn nodded in agreement. At his signal, Legolas lifted his bow and fitted an arrow to the string. The shaft flew in near silence. Whatever was tailing them let out a startled noise. It almost sounded like a curse, which was followed by the scuffling sound of retreating steps.

The Fellowship looked at each other in confusion.

"That didn't sound like a goblin at all," Merry said rubbing his nose in bewilderment.

"It sounded like a maid!" Pippin added although he was just as baffled as his cousin.

The idea was preposterous. A woman in Moria? However, Aragorn and Legolas had already sprinted after their unknown shadow. Gandalf rose and followed after them but at a lesser pace. The light of his staff illuminated the dusty pathway.

He reached Aragorn and Legolas who each stood with weapons at the ready. Behind the wizard, the rest of the Fellowship crowded with wide eyes. Ahead in the dimness was a huddled form. A gleam flickered in the deep eyes.

"There is no need for those," Gandalf said gesturing for everyone to put their weapons down. "We have little to fear from this creature."

The seasoned warriors frowned but lowered their armaments, albeit warily. The hobbits looked on curiously. Gandalf stepped a bit ahead of the Ranger and Legolas. Surprising them all he smiled.

"Come now, do not be frightened. Step into the light so that we may see you."

The hunched figure remained motionless for a long moment as if debating the trustworthiness of Gandalf's words. Then slowly the figure rose and turned to face them. Still cautious in its movements it inched closer towards the light.

"It is a maid!" Pippin burst out.

He was right. To everyone's utter disbelief a strangely clad woman was revealed. She moved forward with extreme caginess. She was clutching a satchel of some kind with Legolas' arrow protruding from it. A pale face marred with dirt and wariness stared defiantly at them. In her eyes was the look of a cornered animal, but there was cleverness in them as well. Intelligence moved behind the dark eyes. All but Gandalf stared in amazement.

"There now," the wizard said looking her over thoughtfully. "You are far from home."

She said nothing but stood defensively holding her pack in front of her like a shield. Legolas' arrow quivered with the minute movements she made.

Sam scratched his head. "But what is a maid doing here?"

"I would like to know the answer to that as well," Gimli muttered gruffly, hefting his battle ax.

The woman's eyes flickered first to the hobbit then to the dwarf. Fear was in her eyes but so too was a glint of obduracy. There was a fire in her look that defied the odds against her. She might be afraid, but she was no coward. They could see thoughts fomenting behind the wary mask she wore.

"You have nothing to fear from us," Gandalf said, capturing her attention once more. "You must forgive us our precautions, but this is a dangerous place. Come closer."

"Who are you?" Pippin blurted.

Gandalf gave the unruly hobbit a severe glance, but it was Gimli spoke next.

"And what are you doing in skulking in the shadows of my forefathers' halls?" He growled. "She must be one of Saruman's spies." He spat.

The woman's brows drew together even as she lifted her chin defiantly. "I am not a spy," she retorted, finding her voice. It was deeper than they expected, with a husky quality to it. But it was undeniably feminine.

"Then what are you doing here?" Boromir interjected. "Gandalf speaks truly. This is a dangerous place." The favorite son of Gondor scowled. He looked her over thoroughly, not bothering to hide his dislike for her. Never one to trust appearances, he felt distinctly unnerved by her sudden manifestation. The woman seemed helpless, but it could be a ruse.

Her eyes shifted to his hands, which gripped his sword tightly. She observed him guardedly, still holding her pack tight against her chest. As her eyes flickered over them all they lingered on the hobbits and Gimli. Her brows knit as if she couldn't figure them out. Then she shifted her gaze to rest on Legolas.

For a moment out of time, they stared at each other until her gaze slid to his ears. Her eyes widened a fraction more. A wave of her uncertainty hit the elf. It was potent and confusing. Covering his own puzzlement he gave her an imperious look. His father would have been proud.

"Your ears…" she murmured with a frown. Discomfiture settled onto her dirty features, and she seemed to withdraw from them though she made no outward movement.

Legolas lifted a brow. "I am an elf." He replied as if that explained everything.

The woman blinked and this time she took a half step back. Her face looked very pale then. Darting, her eyes took in his quiver poking out from over his shoulder and the large bow in his hands. She swallowed. Her attention then moved to the other various weapons displayed before her. Her head started to shake very slowly as if in denial.

Meanwhile, the hobbits had been busy chattering between themselves.

"She dresses very oddly," Frodo murmured quietly.

"What is she?" Sam asked. He felt the urge to shrink back when her eyes landed on him. She didn't look like an elf, but neither did she look like any kin of men.

"She is of the race of Men," Gandalf replied. His eyes had not left her even for a moment. "She wears strange garb because she is not of this realm…or time."

Hearing this, the woman's eyes snapped to his. Disbelief, bewilderment, and apprehension radiated from her.

"This…can't be…this is just…" She murmured under her breath still shaking her head like one dazed.

Only Legolas could hear her and he frowned sternly. He raked her over with his gaze. There was something about this woman…something that made his senses go on alert. The warning that had settled in his heart on their first day in the caverns tripled in intensity now. Never one to doubt his instincts he tested his bowstring surreptitiously. But she noticed the movement and slid one foot backward.

"How long have you been following us?" Aragorn demanded softly.

The Ranger also felt dubious about this woman. He sensed no evil from her, but… Her inexplicable appearance in this deserted place made him cautious. Questions raced through his mind, and while he trusted Gandalf explicitly, something was not right here. He watched a torrent of emotions flash in the woman's eyes. She seemed just as baffled as he was.

"I haven't been following you." She spoke with the thin patience of one who had reached their limits. "I thought I was the only one here...Well," she cast an uneasy glance about. "The only _living_ one here."

At this Gimli grit his teeth. Did this female have no respect? He was about to speak but held his tongue when the Ranger spoke up once more.

"How did you get into the mines?" He demanded, as her answer was not sufficient enough for him.

"I don't know." She gripped her pack tighter. "I don't even know where _here_ is!" She insisted; her voice quivered with barely suppressed emotion. Anger welled up in her eyes along with the faint sheen of tears. Those she hastily forced back.

"You are in Moria…once the mightiest of the Dwarf kingdoms." Gandalf told her.

A single brow rose incredulously on her forehead. She repeated his words flatly, "Dwarf…_kingdoms?_" Then she gave a most unladylike snort of disbelief. "Alright. Sure. And he's Spock's cousin." She nodded her chin in Legolas' direction.

The elf's frown deepened. He could tell by her tone that she was mocking him. His eyes narrowed in offense.

"How did you enter here? The doorway is shut," Aragorn asked again.

"I didn't come in through a door…" she replied, her irritation gave way to confusion.

"Then _how?"_ Boromir exacted suspiciously. "Women do not just appear in the middle of _nowhere_."

At this Gimli stiffened but remained silent. He felt Boromir's words keenly. Moria was not a "nowhere" for him. Unaware of the stewing dwarf, Boromir continued with dangerous speculation. "Unless you are some sort of witch."

A flash of amusement appeared on the woman's lips. "Me? A witch?" She laughed, but it was humorless. "Oh, that's rich..."

Boromir bristled and the rest tightened their hold on their weapons. Perhaps she didn't realize it but her laughter sounded a bit unhinged.

"This is no laughing matter," Aragorn told her sternly. "These mines are a dangerous place—and no place for decent folk, let alone a maiden. Tell us how you came here. _Are_ you a sorceress?"

The wry mood left the woman's face. She looked visibly perturbed again, but she lifted her chin insolently.

"I am not a sorceress or a witch. I don't have any magic or special powers," she said with exaggerated patience. "All I know is…" she paused. Her lips turned down as if she was trying to remember something fleeting.

"I was examining a very old dolmen and stone circle near the B-n-B I was staying at and…" she rubbed her temple as if her head pained her. "I think I fell asleep, which was odd...it didn't feel natural. But I remember hearing a voice…someone spoke to me."

Gandalf looked at her keenly. "Someone spoke to you?"

Her eyes met his. "Yes," she replied slowly. "It was a woman's voice, but I don't remember what she said. Then I…then I was here." She seemed unsure of her own story.

Looking back at Aragorn she added. "I was just trying figure out where I was and how to get out of here. I saw the light and I thought it was the way out. I wasn't expecting to meet anyone. And I certainly wasn't expecting to have _arrows_ shot at me." She gave Legolas a dirty look.

He stiffened under her glare. "We did not know what approached," he retorted defensively.

"Does that give you the right to start firing off like some trigger-happy idiot?" She snapped. "I'm completely unarmed."

Legolas felt his ire rise. His eyes narrowed dangerously.

"How were we to know that?" Aragorn interjected quickly, coming to the elf's defense.

"Well I, for one, believe a 'shoot first' policy is a bad idea in _any_ situation." She quipped sardonically.

Gandalf took charge of the conversation once more. "How long have you been wandering in the dark?"

Out of all of them, he was the only one who had remained calm. As the others interrogated her, he sent out his senses to discern more about this foreigner. The more he probed stranger she became to him. But there was no evil about her, of that he was certain. What he did sense was great sorrow and a resilient spirit.

"I have no idea," she shrugged her shoulders. Shifting her pack over one shoulder she crossed her arms.

"How long do you think?" Boromir grilled sarcastically.

She gave him a look of annoyance. "One, two days? I really _don't_ _know_." She emphasized her last words mordantly.

The Fellowship murmured between themselves. They didn't know what to make of her. This was by far one of the most bizarre encounters they've had; and they had experienced quite a few already. The woman appeared exasperated and she ran a hand through the shaggy locks that had fallen on her face.

"Look, I've had enough of this," she said rolling her eyes. "Can I just please wake up now?" She seemed to be imploring some higher power in bitter frustration.

Gandalf's lips thinned. "You _are_ awake."

Immediately she shook her head. "No. This is a dream. I am dreaming. It is the only logical explanation."

Frodo had remained mostly silent throughout the whole exchange. But intrigued he now spoke up. "Why do you say that?"

He nearly flinched when her eyes came to rest on him. Without realizing his actions his hand gripped the front of his shirt, which hid the burden that hung around his neck.

"Because there is no other logical explanation. Mines? Dwarves and elves?" She looked pointedly at Gimli then Legolas. She missed the duel frowns from those two at having been lumped together in her diatribe.

"None of this is real. That's all just fairy tales," she said with conviction.

Legolas stared at her frostily. He was still offended by her words and her latest proclamation did not make his opinions rise in her favor. Unknowingly, Gimli felt the same.

"What about hobbits?" Pippin piped up eagerly.

Her face became puzzled again as she stared at him, her nose wrinkling slightly as she thought. Then she shrugged. "I'm sorry, but I've never heard of a hobbit before."

Pippin seemed to deflate but Merry interjected. "We're sometimes called Halflings, even child-folk by the Big People. Are you certain you haven't heard of us?"

She just shook her head. "No. Sorry. I…I just really don't understand what's going on." She ran an agitated hand through her hair again. "I'm having trouble believing that this could be _real._" She gestured ambiguously to everything around her.

"We are indeed real," Gandalf stated. "Very real in fact. As is this place that you find yourself in," he told her firmly but kindly. "It will be difficult for you to grasp this now. But you are very far from your home…and time."

Everyone looked to Gandalf in awe. He always seemed to know much more than what could be seen.

"My time?" The woman repeated. "What are you saying? That I've fallen through a wormhole or something?" She gave him a skeptical face looking highly unimpressed.

"Worm-hole?" Pippin echoed looking completely baffled. "How could anyone fall through one of those?"

The woman lifted a brow at him. Then she sighed. "Look, just tell me how I get back home—to _my_ home." Apparently, she was resigned to the fact that she had to "play" along. The only way to win this dream-game was to go by the rules.

"You cannot," Gandalf said simply.

She lifted a brow. "What do you mean I _cannot_?"

"It is not possible."

Anger flared up within her and the vitriolic tone in her voice grew. "What do you mean 'it's not possible'?"

"Keep your voice down, woman!" Boromir hissed. "You'll alert every orc in Moria to our whereabouts."

She gave him a heated look before glaring at Gandalf again. "You cannot keep me here! My family, friends—my job—my whole life is back _there._" She explained with exaggerated patience.

"You are right. We cannot make you stay here." Gandalf told her. Hope sparked to life in the woman's eyes but it was instantly snuffed out. "You can continue to wander about in the dark until some evil creature finds you and ultimately you are sent to an untimely death."

The woman balked at that.

"We do not have the ability to send you home, nor does anyone that I know," Gandalf explained unaffectedly. He leaned on his staff observing her thoughtfully. "Fate has brought you here for a reason, though what that reason is, I cannot say. However, you will live and die in this world. Of that I am certain." His tone was sympathetic, but he knew there would be little comfort for this lost creature.

The woman gaped at him then shut her mouth tightly. A pertinacious fire sparked behind her eyes and the wizard wondered at it. He sensed that under her fear and uncertainty laid a deep-rooted courage and a strong will that had been iron forged. At the moment she locked gazes with him as if trying to do battle with his will. He could see that she was trying to reconcile with his words. Stubbornly she continued to cling to the notion that she was in a dream. He could see it in the way she set her emotions aside or tried to at least.

"We cannot linger here. You will come with us," he declared.

The Fellowship looked at each other uncertainly.

"This is folly! Bringing a maid with us is unwise," Boromir protested.

"What would you do, son of Denethor? Leave her here to fend for herself?" Gandalf challenged. "Luck was with her for her to have survived in the dark alone for as long as she has. She will travel with us and fate will determine what is to be done with her. But all things in due course!"

"Can you fight?" Aragorn turned and asked her.

"Uh, you mean with swords and arrows?" She asked looking at their medieval weapons dubiously. "No." Her jaw tightened.

Aragorn frowned. This did not bode well for them. A woman who could not defend herself in the darkness of Moria would be a liability.

"She will need to be taught," Gandalf said, interrupting the man's thoughts. "A time will come when she will need to defend herself and others." He gave Aragorn a meaningful look.

"Defend myself from _what?_" The woman asked cynically.

"From creatures that would have you dead for no other reason than for the pleasure of watching your blood spill," Aragorn told her with rancor.

A look of fear bloomed on her face, but it was followed by a shadow of something the Ranger did not understand. Nor did he have the time to ponder it.

"You should be frightened," he pushed her. "You have no idea what dangers await us."

To his surprise, she said, "I will face whatever comes my way." Her tone was implacable. "I always have."

Surprised but pleased to hear this, Aragorn gave her a short nod. However, he very much doubted that her bravery would remain when faced with any real danger. One look at her and it was clear: she was no warrior.

"We must go," Gandalf announced.

With that, he turned with a _swoosh _of gray robes.


	3. A Journey Into The Dark

**Please read author's note and disclaimer.**

I own nothing of Tolkien's works nor do I claim to. Credit also belongs to Cormak3032.

* * *

**Chapter 2: ****A Journey Into The Dark**

"What's your name?" Pippin asked, breaking the silence a short while later.

They had been walking for some five minutes and despite the dour atmosphere, he couldn't help but be curious about their newest companion. She was the strangest maiden he had ever seen and all his Tookish inquisitiveness bubbled forth.

She didn't wear a dress or skirt, but trousers made of some sort of thick blue material. She wore a short over-tunic of blue and green plaid. It was unbuttoned and under it was a black undershirt. On top of this was a burgundy fleece-lined jacket with a hood. There appeared to be some lettering stitched on the front, but he couldn't make out what it said.

The garments would certainly offend those of strict sensibilities; who ever heard of a maid wearing clothes meant for men? But for Pippin, they only fueled his nosiness. He surmised that she must be fair of face, but it was hard to tell in the gloom. She was dirty like the rest of them, but he ventured to guess that she had light brunette hair. Her eyes were dark, but not brown.

When those dark eyes turned on him they lost some of their aloof quality. "My name is Lana…Lana Rey."

"I'm Peregrin Took, at your service, milady," he introduced with a smile. "But you can call me Pippin." He was delighted to see an answering smile curve her lips. She was very pretty when she smiled he decided. "This is Merry," he said pointing to his cousin. "And that's Frodo and Sam."

"Lana Rey," Merry said, trying it out. "That's an interesting name. Where are you from?"

"I live…uh…_lived,_" she restated with a displeased grimace and glanced at Gandalf's back. "In London. But I grew up in California."

Merry frowned thinking. "Never heard of those places. Have you, Pip?"

Pippin frowned thoughtfully. Then he exhaled, his cheeks puffing, and shook his head. "Where is that near?"

"Uhm…" she seemed to struggle with what to say. "California is in the US and London is in the UK."

"I'm not familiar with those places," Merry said apologetically.

"Me neither," Pippin concurred.

Lana sighed imperceptibly. "I guess you wouldn't be." Her voice trailed off.

Sensing her despondency the two hobbits continued to engage her in conversation. They told her about the Shire with its green hills and verdant farms; they told her about their families, their family histories and so on. Eventually Sam joined in the conversation. He was, after all, very knowledgeable about such matters as family histories.

Lana became very lost very quickly, but she asked all the appropriate questions and did her best to keep track of names, places, and lineages. And it did keep her mind off of her present situation. It was plain to her that family history was _exceptionally_ important to hobbits. Along with food. And pipe weed.

Her stomach grumbled at the thought of food, and she frowned. Grimacing she returned her attention to the hobbits. But her attention was divided between them and the murmuring of the rest of the company. Behind her she could hear the dark-haired Aragorn speaking softly to the elf. As she listened she fingered the arrow in her hand.

She had yanked it out of her backpack earlier. The contents inside were relatively unharmed. But her notebook and copy of _Everything Is Illuminated_ were utterly ruined. The arrow had managed to pierce all the way into the cover of her sketchbook, but the leather cover had stopped it from going further. The surface was dented a bit, and pierced in the center of the depression, but otherwise none worse for wear.

She made a wry face. It was those very books that had saved her life. Had they not been in there, that arrow would have pierced right through. And killed her.

At that idea she had a very uncharitable thought about the elf. As it crossed her mind, her fingers gripped the arrow as if she intended to break it in half. But she didn't—partly because the wooden shaft was far stronger than she originally thought, and also because she wasn't sure what the elf would do if she _did_ break it. He hadn't asked for it back, but she wasn't about to return it willingly.

Out of everyone in the group he gave her the most severe creeps. There was just something about him that made all the hair on her body stand on end. It was like standing near an electrical wire. His presence made her blood hum and her skin tingle. And she feared that if she got too close he would shock her like a live-wire.

Listening covertly she tried to eavesdrop on what they were saying behind her. She frowned when she realized that she couldn't understand them. Her brain raced trying to match the sounds to the languages that she knew, but nothing fit.

"What language are they speaking?" She asked the hobbits discreetly.

"Elvish," Sam informed her. "Strider can speak it very well, but that's because he used to lived with them."

"He's practically Elvish himself!" Merry said. "You have to admit that he does have that Elvish sense about him."

"Who's Strider?" Lana asked, confused now.

"Oh! That's Aragorn, but we call him Strider," Pippin offered. "He's speaking to Legolas—who _is_ an elf, of course."

She nodded, though she wasn't sure if she really understood any of this. "And who is that?" She asked in undertone nodding towards the man who walked ahead with Gandalf.

"That's Boromir. He's from Gondor. His father is the Steward there," Merry said.

"And the, ah…dwarf?"

"Gimli, son of Glóin," Merry supplied.

"That's the same Glóin who was with Bilbo on his adventures," Pippin added.

"Pippin! She doesn't even know who Bilbo is!" Merry chided exasperated by his cousin's foolishness.

This led into an extensive explanation of who Bilbo was and how he knew Glóin. This lasted for nearly thirty minutes.

"But Frodo is the one who should really tell you the story. He is Bilbo's nephew after all."

Lana glanced ahead to where the dark haired hobbit walked. He kept close to Gandalf as if needing to stay in his shadow. There was something peculiar about him—not like the elf, but something _strange_, for lack of a better word. It was like a scent that comes and goes too quickly for the mind to place. The sensation was curious but she wasn't all that interested in understanding it. It was only a passing feeling anyway.

At the moment her mind was still refusing to acknowledge any of this. It was easier to just ignore the outrageousness of it all. Instead, she imaged that she was on assignment with a film crew shooting some weird sci-fi flick. It was a simple way to trick herself into accepting dwarves and elves, and now hobbits.

"So, where are we going?" She asked once the hobbits stopped to breathe. No one had said a word to her about their destination or why they were traveling through this network of caves. It obviously was not a place with a lot of traffic.

Immediately all conversations died around her. She glanced about confused. Everyone was giving her guarded looks, or not looking at her at all.

"Did I…say something…wrong?" She asked carefully watching their reactions.

"Everything will reveal itself in its own proper time," Gandalf informed her.

She gave him an exasperated look. "And why can't the right time be now?" She challenged.

The Fellowship was agog. Merry and Pippin were unsuccessfully trying to hide their snickering. No one would dare question Gandalf like that! Lana was very bold for a woman.

The wizard merely lowered his brows, assessing her. Far from obtuse, Lana quickly put the puzzle together. "Ah. I see. You don't trust me."

"We don't know you," Sam told her honestly.

"And there are many things you do not understand," Aragorn spoke up from behind her.

"Yeah well no kidding," she interjected caustically.

"You must have patience," Gandalf counseled her from ahead. "Too much information is a dangerous thing. Especially to someone from another realm," he told her meaningfully.

She lifted a brow. It was like he was purposely baiting her. Where she came from free access to information was a given right, and she had very strong opinions about censorship. Who were they to deny her information? Debating on how far she could push them, she forged ahead delicately.

"Then this must be a dire mission you all are on."

Quietly she wondered if this society was repressive towards women. Perhaps it wasn't a lack of trust, but a belief that because she was a woman she wouldn't understand the complexity of their journey. Based on the odd looks and comments she had endured so far, she determined she must be in some sort of medieval dream or something. And she guessed that women were not empowered in this world. Although she had yet to met any females of any kind.

_If I _am_ dreaming then I would change this immediately,_ she thought. Then she tried her theory and attempted to will another woman into being. Nothing happened though.

"Do not fear," Gandalf said interrupting her thoughts. "You are in good company here."

_Am I?_

She gave the grey wizard a skeptical look. He held her gaze unerringly. Quite aberrantly she decided that she could trust _him_. Out of everyone in this strange company he seemed the most…well, approachable. She sensed something from Gandalf that was difficult to define. In his eyes there seemed to be immeasurable wisdom and he exuded a sort of peaceful confidence that made her _want_ to trust him.

And that was weird; but needing to feel some sort of comfort she went with her gut.

It was clear to her that he was highly respected within the group. Most elders were, she knew. And if he really _was_ a wizard, well…all the more reason to watch out and stay on his good side. She didn't relish the idea of being turned into a bat or something. She tried to picture the old man before her doing such a thing. It wasn't too far fetched. Still, he emitted a comforting aura that reminded her of a grandfather figure in some ways.

Still holding her gaze he gestured for her to walk beside him. Smiling wanly she excused herself Merry and Pippin, she moved ahead to join the wizened old man.

Looking him over carefully, she asked, "Are you _really_ a wizard?"

He chuckled softly. "I am called such by many. And I have many names in many tongues, but I am called Gandalf here. Gandalf the Grey."

She lifted a brow but echoed his smile. "Well, I never thought I would ever meet an honest-to-goodness wizard."

While she tried to keep her humor up, it was difficult. A nagging feeling of sadness and lingering confusion hovered over her like a storm cloud. And it seemed to threat a downpour on her at any moment.

Not typically emotional, she felt set a drift and was finding it difficult to cope with everything. She couldn't understand how she ended up here and her brain raced with all that she knew about parallel universes. Unsurprisingly it wasn't much. Science fiction had more to say about such things than real science.

And predictably, she felt far from safe. Her mind kept racing from one plausible explanation to the next. Over and over she went through her memory trying to account for all..._this_. But she wasn't satisfied with any of her conclusions.

The events that occurred before arriving here were a rather hazy. She replayed her trip to the ancient stones over and over in her head, and desperately tried to recall the voice, but it was useless. It was like someone dipped their hand into her memories and stirred them up, as when a child splashes in the shallows of a pool. Everything was indistinct.

She frowned. Perhaps she had finally lost it. At last the stress of her job had broken her mind. Maybe her body was lying next to those stones while her brain conjured up this fantasy. _I wonder if I put my meds in my backpack._

"Keep your chin up and do not despair." Gandalf said disrupting her thoughts. "I am quite certain that there is a reason for us crossing paths."

Lana exhaled heavily and met his eyes for a moment. "Well, if you know the reason then please tell me, because none of this any makes sense." She kicked a loose stone from her path. It clicked off the wall echoing dully.

"I'm here _against_ my will—and I have no idea how this happened, or why I'm here. I have no idea where we are even _going_," she looked at him pointedly. "And I hardly know anything about who I'm with. There are just a hell of a lot of unknowns here." She gave him a dry smile that was completely devoid of humor.

"The time will come for you to learn all that. But it is not now," he repeated. "We must concentrate on leaving Moria."

She blew out a breath. "And how long will that take?"

"Another day at least."

"Shit."

Gandalf lifted his brows at her.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "It's habit—and I know. Not very 'ladylike.'" She gestured with quote-fingers.

Surprisingly, Gandalf chuckled. "I think it goes without saying that you are a very _unique_ lady."

Her expression shifted into one of amusement. Clearly he didn't know the half of it, or so she thought. But what she didn't realize was that he already had a good idea of her character. Whatever powers brought her here he felt that her strengths would be valuable. He sensed that she had many amiable qualities. And something else told him that she was invaluable but for what reason he couldn't yet discern.

They continued on until Gandalf halted at a crossroads. He stood on a landing and pondered three different routes that lay before them. Looking between them he frowned.

"I have no memory of this place."

With a huff he sat down on a large rock and pulled out his pipe. No one complained. Everyone desired a break—everyone that is, except Legolas. He never seemed to tire.

Lana snuck a glance at the fair being. He seemed to glow. This made her wonder if her hunger was getting to her. Honestly, now that she thought about it, it felt like her stomach just might start eating her spine. She resolved to ignore her bodily pains—just like this whole fandangle situation. It wasn't real…right?

All of them reclined on the wide stairs that led up to the landing with three paths. They kept back, allowing Gandalf room to contemplate their route in peace. Pippin immediately began talking about food, much to Lana's dismay.

"Quiet! Gandalf's thinking!" Merry admonished Pippin after a moment.

"But Merry, I'm _hungry._"

A small muffled sound was heard in the quiet and Pippin glanced at Lana. "She's hungry too!"

Mortified Lana felt her face heat. At least the lighting was poor. No one could see her blush. Distracting herself she idly drew in the dust with the arrow she still held. She didn't realize that the elf was staring at her from behind.

"Well she hasn't eaten in days I'd wager," Merry reminded him, talking as if she couldn't hear him.

"We should feed her, and us too," Pippin reasoned.

"I had a little food, but not much," Lana said, recalling the half eaten chocolate bar in her backpack. "I had no idea I was going to be traveling through a cave for days." Her attempt at levity ended up sounding rather sarcastic.

"_Mine_. It's a mine," Gimli told her in annoyance.

"Ok, mine. Sorry," she told him flatly.

He sent her a grim look, which she held for a moment. She didn't know what to make of him, and he certainly had no idea what to think of her! She was a very queer woman. The fact that she had been wandering around his kinsman's halls disturbing their peace rankled him.

For her part, Lana couldn't decide if the dwarf was truly as testy as he acted or if he was grieving the loss of his people. Although the skeletons she had seen looked to be very old. But memory runs long. She of all people knew this very well.

Leaning toward the idea that the dwarf was just always cantankerous, her lips quirked. Disney didn't quite get the look of a grumpy dwarf, she thought.

During the hours she had been with this odd collection of people she had noticed certain things about them. For example, Boromir was not shy in sending her distrusting glares. He looked her over as if she were a stray animal—an unwelcome tagalong. The sneering glances he gave her were grating on her frayed patience, but she held her tongue. For now.

The hobbits for the most part seemed to have few inhibitions and appeared keen to befriend her, despite her own standoffish mood. The only exception was Frodo, but then he seemed to distance himself from everyone.

The relationship between Gimli and Legolas was the most curious however. When they weren't busy giving her frosty looks they were glowering at each other. Gimli was particularly prickly towards the elf. Legolas in turn was very icy towards him. She wondered what the cause of their rivalry could be. It was not lost on her that they seemed to instigate each other. But their enmity was a mystery to her. It was held thinly in check, and she supposed it was for the greater cause of their "secret" mission.

Feeling eyes upon her, she looked up to see that the elf watching at her. An uneasy feeling settled in her stomach. At the same time every single hair on the back of her neck stood straight up. Her heart started beating erratically and she felt her hands start to sweat. Alarmed and confused by her reaction to his mere glance she hurriedly dropped his gaze.

She only looked up again when Frodo darted up the steps towards Gandalf. He spoke in hushed voice that still carried. "There's something down there!" The hobbit told him earnestly.

"It's Gollum," Gandalf replied seemingly unperturbed.

"Gollum?" Frodo voiced her own question.

"He's been following us for three days." Gandalf replied.

"He escaped the dungeons of Barad-dûr?"

"Escaped? Or set loose?"

Their hushed voices were then lost to her. Shifting on the hard stone step she exhaled morosely.

"You are frightened," Boromir stated baldly. "You don't hide it as well as you think."

Lana met his unfriendly gaze. The man had a hard line around his mouth. Unlike the elf or the other man, Boromir seemed to be a boiling kettle. He simmered and his gaze licked over her heatedly. It was not in a suggestive way either. This man clearly had an issue with her.

And he was a bit of a puzzle to her, as he seemed rather isolated compared to the rest of the group. Narrowing her eyes she lifted her chin.

"What good is it to show fear?" She flung back at him.

The man merely stared at her as if waiting for something. _Maybe he thinks I'll finally produce a broom and go flying off!_

Aragorn puffed on his pipe and then said, "What is your world like?"

Lana pivoted to face him. "My world?" It felt strange to say that. "It's very different from this," she looked about wryly. "I wouldn't know where to begin."

Indeed! How could she even begin to explain cars, radio, television, computers—the internet! These people carried bows and knives. The most advanced device would have to be Gandalf's glowing staff.

"Are you married?" Pippin asked seemingly out of nowhere.

"What?" She gave him a startled look.

He pointed to the ring she wore. The large triangle-cut turquoise hardly qualified as a wedding band! But it wasn't the only ring she wore at the moment.

"Oh no," she said with a dry laugh. "I'm not married."

"Doesn't surprise me," Boromir quipped.

She shot him a dark look.

"Does your ring mean anything then?" Merry asked curiously.

She shook her head. "No. They're just adornments; just for looks."

"So if you're not married, then what did you do in your home?" Merry probed, now intrigued.

"You mean my job?" The hobbits glanced at each other then nodded. Clearly, "job" was not a commonly used word. "Well, I'm a journalist."

Several confused faces looked at her.

"What's a journalist?" Sam asked.

"It's a person who reports on news. They go out and get stories about what's going on in the world. They can cover everything from politics, to business, economics, sports, entertainment…" She trailed off, as it seemed she had lost them. They looked even more befuddled.

"You don't have journalists here?"

The hobbits shared a look then Merry said, "Not really. There _are_ plenty of well informed hobbits at home, but mostly we just go to the pub and hear any news there is there."

It made sense, Lana thought. Clearly their society had not developed the role of journalism in this world yet. News traveled from neighbor to neighbor through gossip and hearsay.

"What kind of news did you report?" Aragorn asked joining the conversation.

Lifting her eyes she met the Ranger's steadily. "I was a war correspondent."

There was silence, except for the soft murmurings of Gandalf and Frodo.

"That…sounds rather unpleasant." Sam grimaced.

"Journalism isn't about pleasantness. It's about informing the public to what's going on; and it's about holding governments accountable for their actions. War is never pleasant, but my role and the role of the other correspondents is crucial."

"Did you run messages to your king and his armies?" Pippin asked innocently.

Lana shook her head. "We don't have a king where I come from."

This generated more interest, but she quickly explained that she was independent from any government. She refused to work for any political body. And she didn't want to delve into democracies or republics at this time.

"My job was to get as unbiased views as possible of what was happening on the ground." Here she made a mordant face. "Essentially, when people were running the other way to escape a warzone, I was the one running _in_."

"That hardly sounds like a job for a maiden," Boromir cajoled nastily.

Lana spun to face him. "And just what is your problem is with women?" She said losing her temper.

"I have no problem with most of them," he replied meeting her gaze head on. Then he made a perusal of her entire appearance. "It's the ones who are self-righteous and think they can act like a man that I have trouble with. They don't know their place."

Lana's eyes narrowed and a dangerous air surrounded her. "What _exactly_ are you implying?"

"Nothing, fair _lady,_" he taunted with spurious saccharine sentiment.

Lana raked him over with her gaze as if she could pick the flesh from his bones with merely a look. "I can tell that we're going to get along _famously,"_ she scoffed.

"We shouldn't be quarrelling amongst ourselves," Aragorn interjected before anything could escalate.

But that didn't stop Lana from shooting Boromir a nasty look. Aragorn saw it and frowned. She would be a force to be reckoned with once she was trained.

"Ah! It's that way!"

Everyone looked up at Gandalf's words.

"He's remembered!" Merry replied with a grin.

"No, but the air doesn't smell so foul down here," Gandalf smiled at the young hobbit. "When in doubt, always follow your nose."

Lana snorted lightly with humor. Legolas glanced her way questioningly, but she shook her head and moved quickly behind the hobbits. She was not about to even try to explain children's cereal commercials to an _elf_.

She followed the glow of Gandalf's staff into the darkness. The passageway opened up and she felt the air change. It was cooler and there seemed to be a slight breeze.

Gandalf lifted his staff a little. "Let me risk a little more light…"


	4. Khazad-dûm

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story. **

I make no claim to Tolkien's works_._ I also give credit to Cormak3032.

* * *

**Chapter 3: Khazah-dûm**

"Behold! The great realm of the dwarf-city of Dwarrowdelf." Gandalf's voice echoed off the boundless expanse that stretched before them.

"Well, there's an eye opener at no mistake." Sam murmured in awe.

The whole Fellowship looked around in astonishment. Great pillars soared like trees. These were intricately carved with geometric patterns. They disappeared into a ceiling high above, lost in the gloom where the light couldn't reach. The room was massive and the light from Gandalf's staff could hardly penetrate the pressing darkness. It surely must have been a sight when it was filled with light and dwarves.

Quietly they moved on, trailing after Gandalf. As they passed a pillar, Lana could not resist reaching out and touching it. The base was as large as a redwood tree, if not larger! Orderly patterns were carved into the rock. Her fingers felt the indentations of a script as well. Peering at it, she saw that they were runes.

"'Tis a wonder, is it not?" Gimli said gruffly, appearing at her elbow.

Startled, Lana glanced at the short, bearded dwarf. His eyes held a gleaming pride, but it was subdued. He placed a hand on the stone as well as if touching a friend. And suddenly she understood. This sadness she knew. It was the same feeling she felt whenever she visited Newgrange, or Ephesus, or Rome. A sense of deeply rooted kinship with a past now irrevocably lost.

She offered him a sedated smile. "It is."

His brown eyes gleamed as if he too felt the sudden connection between them. He gave her a nod then moved ahead.

A tingling sensation on the back of her neck caused Lana to look over her shoulder. The elf's luminous eyes met hers. Something was reflected there that she could not decipher. As usual, his face was a blank mask no warmer than the cold stone under her hand. Unconsciously her fingers tightened around the arrow she still held.

Turning back around she picked up her pace. Still, despite herself, she could not help but wonder at what stirred beneath that stoic façade he wore.

Ahead there was a sliver of light and the hearts of the company lifted. Perhaps this was the way out! With an inarticulate exclamation, Glóin's son darted ahead.

"Gimli!"

But the dwarf ignored Gandalf's call and ran ahead to the illuminated doorway. They followed him quickly—eagerly.

It wasn't an exit. A chill descended on the group as they entered the room. The light was from a window situated high on the opposite wall. Its brightness temporarily blinded them. Yet as they adjusted they saw the bones: skeletons left as they had died.

"No…No…" Gimli was kneeling before a large stone table.

Lana abruptly realized as she stepped further into the room that it wasn't a table at all. It was a tomb.

The dwarf's grief was palatable. The hobbits traded wide-eyed glances, while the men and elf looked on grimly. Lana was no stranger to grief and she lowered her eyes. No matter how many times she witnessed it, the pain of another never got easier to bear. Memories marched across her mind's eye of the deaths she had witnessed.

Gandalf meanwhile had stepped up to the tomb. Removing his pointed hat he read the engraving etched into the tomb's surface.

"Here lies Balin, son of Fundin, Lord of Moria. He is dead then," the wizard sighed gravely. Gimli wept harder. "It's as I feared." Gandalf looked about, his face one of sorrow and dread.

Stale cold death was everywhere. Realizing how close she was to one skeleton, Lana took a step to the side. Legolas glanced at her as she moved unconsciously closer to him. Her face was unreadable to him, but he sensed that death was not foreign to her. A well of emotions moved beneath the surface of her drawn face and he wondered what the look she wore now meant. His lips pulled into a frown.

But then Gandalf stole his attention as the wizard picked up discarded book. He blew the dust off and then cracked it open. The book groaned painfully before revealing its contents.

Stepping behind Lana, Legolas moved closer to Aragorn. "We must move on. We cannot linger."

Aragorn's worried face looked at him and he almost said something but was silenced by Gandalf's voice.

"They have taken the bridge, and the second hall," he read. "We have barred the gates, but cannot hold them for long." A dread settled over the company as the old wizard read.

"The ground shakes…drums…drums in the deep. We cannot get out. A shadow moves in the dark." The level of dread rose filling the room. All was silent except for Gandalf's voice. "We cannot get out." He paused and then looked up at them all grimly. "They are coming."

A sudden noise echoed off the walls. Pippin jumped back from the skeleton he had been inspecting. The old bones slumped on the edge of a well. Its head was missing, having just fallen off. It bounced down the well, clattering on its way down. The hobbit tried to look innocent but it was clear that he had done something that disturbed the body.

Slowly the skeleton began to shift and then it too fell down the well making a terrible racket. Pippin grimaced each time the bones struck something on the way down. When it was finally quiet again everyone waited, then after several tense moments there was a collective sigh of relief.

"Fool of a Took!" Gandalf barked as he slammed the book closed. "Throw yourself in next time and rid us of your stupidity!"

He snatched his hat and staff from the abashed hobbit. Lana would have felt sorry for him if she weren't still trying to catch her racing heart. She swore mentally trying to recover her composure.

Just then there was a sound; a deep _doom!_ from somewhere in the depths of the well. Pippin's eyes widened and Gandalf slowly turned back towards the well.

It sounded again. And again…and again It sounded like discordant drums—more like a signal than a steady beat.

_Drums in the deep…_

The entire Fellowship shifted, antsy with anxiety. Boromir rushed to the door and peered out. More pounding was followed by noises that didn't sound like humans or animals. It was more like a strange shrieking-squealing sound. With it came a more metallic clattering like the sound of metal plates clashing together.

_Or armor…_Lana realized as she turned to stare at the doorway. Her attention was diverted as Sam called to Frodo suddenly. The dark-haired hobbit unsheathed his sword, which was glowing a bright blue. Lana's mouth fell open but before she could make sense of it Legolas cried out in a snarl.

_"__Yrch!"_

Lana looked to Merry, completely mystified.

"Not good," he uttered uneasily.

Two black arrows suddenly embedded into the wooden doorframe. If Boromir hadn't had the reflexes of a deer, he would have been impaled right there.

"Get back!" Aragorn commanded the hobbits. He grabbed Lana by the arm and jerked her after them. "Stay close to Gandalf!"

Lana stared at him with wide eyes. What was happening? What are orcs? Was this an attack? The questions sped through her mind as she tried to gain her footing over the debris on the floor. She moved quickly behind the wizard even as the rest of the Fellowship prepared for battle.

Aragorn dashed to help the Gondorian pull the massive doors closed.

"They have a cave troll," Boromir groaned in exasperation.

As they barracked the doors with wooden beams, Legolas tossed axes and spears to the men. These were wedged into the frame, further fortifying the doors. Lana was distracted again as Gandalf tossed his pointed hat to the ground. He picked up a dusty sword that a corpse had been holding and thrust it at her. She dropped the arrow in her hand as the sword was pushed into her fingers.

"Use this. You will need it."

Lana's eyes grew wide. "But!"

"No buts!" He gripped her hands as she held the weapon uncertainly. "Use that courage you buried deep!"

His blue eyes suddenly seemed to hold a wisdom deeper than time itself. Leaving her, he moved in front of the hobbits and unsheathed his long sword. Lana blinked from the sudden severance of Gandalf's eyes. Dazed she shook her head.

Gimli surged up on top of his kinsman's tomb. "Let them come!" He growled. "There is yet one dwarf in Moria who still draws breath!"

The doors shook as their enemy barged against them. Dust fell in clouds with each impact. Aragorn, Legolas, and Boromir took a stance nearest the door. Boromir held his sword and shield ready, while the Ranger and elf stood firm with bows in their hands. The hobbits were huddled behind Gandalf and Gimli, weapons held ready. Gimli's large battle ax gleamed wickedly in the light.

Behind them all stood Lana with a sword in her hands and her heart in her throat. She shivered each time the doors vibrated. With each pound she grimaced. Unwanted memories surfaced and she shook head viciously trying to dislodge them.

_Not now!_

But the haunting images bubbled to the surface of her mind. Her heart sped up. Perhaps it was natural for thoughts of the last battle she was in to come to mind. But in that one, she knew whom her enemies were and what to do. Here… Her eyes widened as the door trembled again. Someone—or _thing—_was cutting through the aged wood door.

Legolas narrowed his eyes and shot through a hole that one of the orcs created. It shrieked and fell back. Aragorn released his arrow and it too found its mark through a split in the wood. However, the door could not hold.

The barrack gave way and the doors swung in, slamming against the walls. Orcs poured in; their hideous faces alight with evil intent. Shaken both from her memories and the unreal sight before her, Lana instantly drew back.

Words could not describe their ugliness. Never before had she seen such horrific creatures. Surely these things were not real? They looked like demons!

Adrenaline flooded her system as survival instincts kicked in. She quickly drew back into a corner where some stone adornments had fallen. It created a nook just big enough for her to duck down and squeeze into. Gripping the sword in her hands tightly she prayed that she would be overlooked. She was a journalist—not a soldier!

Aragorn drew his sword the moment the doors flew open. He charged into the fray and began slicing and stabbing. Legolas withdrew to higher ground from where he could rain down his arrows. The hobbits finding their courage surged forward. In the heat of the moment, no one noticed that Lana was missing. Well-hidden she watched the battle with a thumping heart. Her brain could not believe her eyes.

Behind them the orcs dragged in the massive cave troll. It bellowed and flung its huge hands wildly as the orcs poked and prodded it into the room. Chaos took on a new meaning, as it seemed that orcs were on every side and the troll's flailing figure added an extra challenge. Provoked, the beast attacked ally and enemy alike.

Somehow Boromir got tangled in the beast's chain. The troll jerked it sending him flying. Stunned the man tried to regain his feet, but his head was ringing. An orc loomed over him, its yellow teeth revealed in an unwholesome grin. Without warning it fell over, a sword protruding from its back. Aragorn nodded to the man who signaled that he was recovered.

As the battle raged around her, Lana stayed secure in her hiding place. That was until an orc spotted her. It moved behind her and grabbed her hair through the small space at the back of her sanctuary. She cried out and tried to hack herself free. Maneuvering her weapon carefully she thrust backwards.

The resistance she felt was like a shock going up her arm, but the creature let go of her hair with a shriek. Crawling forward she rubbed the back of her head. Her hair was now loose and falling from its ponytail.

Another demon jumped in front of her. Her eyes widened as it lifted its curved weapon. She wouldn't be able to move fast enough. Just as the scimitar came down an arrow went through the beast's head.

Lana jumped aside as the orc fell over, its weapon falling uselessly to the floor. Glancing in the direction the arrow had come from she saw Legolas running along the upper level of the room. His next target was already sighted; he no longer looked at her.

The battle raged on but it didn't last long. The troll who seemed bent on capturing Frodo was brought down by Legolas, but only after it managed to skewer the poor hobbit with a large trident.

Lana leaned against a wall panting. Her cheek was bleeding steadily from a gash she didn't remember getting, and her hands were battered and bloodied as well. However, her heart was still thundering even as the Fellowship moved slowly towards the prone hobbit. She hung back not trusting her legs just then. The feeling of dismay from the group was pervasive, but she could hardly sense it over her own adrenaline rush.

Her body was in shock and she was trying desperately to not be sick. In her mind, all she could think of was that she _killed_. These creatures, orcs or whatever they were called, she had ended up killing two of them. The notion made her queasy. She had never killed anyone before…

A sudden wheezing cough captured her attention. Aragorn drew back in amazement. Far from being dead, Frodo sat up rubbing his chest.

"I'm alright. I'm not hurt."

Sam rushed to his side, tears of sorrow turning into tears of joy. "He's alive!" The sandy-haired hobbit warbled in relief.

Aragorn's voice was shaking when he spoke. "You should be dead! That spear would have skewered a wild boar."

"I think there's more to this hobbit than meets the eye," Gandalf said, relief and mischief coloring his tone.

Frodo revealed that he was wearing some kind of chainmail shirt. It gleamed brightly in the dim light.

"_Mithril_…" Gimli murmured in awe. "You are full of surprises Master Baggins."

Lana slowly drew closer now that her queasiness had passed. The moment of joy did not last long, however. Already there were the sounds of more orcs coming. Gandalf looked at them all.

"To the bridge of Khazad-dûm!"

They raced out of the room and back into the great hall. Lana still held her Dwarven sword tightly. In the gloom, she could hear them being surrounded. It seemed that the orcs were coming from every direction—even from above!

Abruptly Gandalf drew up fast. They bunched together as a ring of orcs circled them. They cackled and jeered. Maniacal faces were alight with evil pleasure. Lana was crowded into the middle of the group as the men brandished their weapons.

Closing her eyes, she sent up a prayer to whatever deity cared to listen. _Please let me wake up! This can't be happening!_

Gimli growled vocally and his ridiculous show of courage made Lana swallow her panic and grip her sword tighter. Setting her jaw she narrowed her gaze at the ring of goblin creatures.

_Well, fuck this. Come on then… _Lana adjusted her grip on her weapon.

Without warning, a terrifying bellow sounded in the distance. It sent a collective shiver through the orcs and the Fellowship. Suddenly unsure, the orcs began chattering nervously.

The roar sounded again. Truly frightened the orcs scattered and ran. Gimli laughed but his humor didn't last. From deep in the shadows a flickering red light was growing. An unspeakable dread settled on the company.

"What is this new devilry?" Boromir asked Gandalf cagily.

Gandalf bowed his head looking suddenly very weary. When he raised his gaze he said, "A balrog. A demon from the ancient world."

At this proclamation Legolas, the ever-unflappable elf, seemed to freeze. Lana noticed his body stiffen and his wide eyes. She glanced at him wondering what could make this stern warrior quake so.

Gandalf continued. "This foe is beyond any of you. Run!"

Everyone jumped and began running. An angry bellow echoed behind them as the air became suddenly very warm.

* * *

_Thank you for reading! I hope you are enjoying the story thus far. __Critical critiques and comments are always appreciated._


	5. The Bridge

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.**

I make no claims on Tolkien's works. I also give credit to Cormak3032.

I couldn't resist giving you one more chapter. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 4: The Bridge**

It was hot. As they ran it felt like a fire was chasing them. Flames indeed began to appear, licking the distant walls and snaking up through cracks in the floor. The once freezing caverns had turned into a blazing inferno.

Gandalf led the way urging them to move faster. He flagged them through a doorway that led to some stairs leading downwards. Waiting until the last of them passed through, he glanced back the way they came.

Seeing nothing yet, he flew down the stairs after the rest of the Fellowship. They had halted abruptly as the stairs gave way. Legolas caught Boromir before he fell into the black abyss. Quickly rerouting the man found another set of stairs. Aragorn paused to look back. Seeing Gandalf struggling, he raced to his side.

"Gandalf!"

The wizard leaned against the Ranger. "Lead them on Aragorn. The bridge is near." He gestured towards the path.

Ahead in the rising gloom was the narrow bridge of Khazad-dûm. A movement several steps down from them caught Aragorn's attention. It was the woman, Lana. She had pressed herself against the wall and was slowly moving down the steps. The gap between her and the rest of the company was widening.

"Her time will come," Gandalf said prophetically. "With proper training she will be a fine warrior. She will earn her place among you before the end."

Aragorn's brows drew together. He was about to ask what the wizard meant but the low rumbling growl of the balrog shook the floor beneath them. Then Gandalf shoved him down the steps.

"Do as I say! Swords are of no more use here!"

Aragorn looked back uncertainly but moved ahead. He grabbed Lana's wrist pulling her along.

"Wait! Wait!" She squeaked breathlessly.

"There is no time!" Aragorn told her brusquely.

Nearly dragging her down the stairs he pulled her into the middle of the group before joining Boromir in the lead.

Lana forced herself to keep her eyes glued on the steps under her feet and not on the black void only two feet away. _Just keep moving; don't look down there. _As she coached herself she found her rhythm. Once again her survival instincts kicked into overdrive. In her head, she counted the steps methodically as they descended towards the level with the bridge.

Unexpectedly her foot slipped and she slammed into someone's back. With a terrified squeak, she gripped them, petrified of going over the edge. He turned and grabbed her arms gently but with bridled strength. When Lana finally opened her eyes her heart skipped uncomfortably.

Legolas the elf was staring into her frightened gaze. Concern colored his expression. It was the first time she had seen him look at her with anything other than distrust or blankness.

"I'm sorry!" She breathed her face flushing. Quickly she pulled herself upright, feeling altogether like a clumsy ass.

"It is all right," he told her softly.

He didn't release his hold on her arm but instead guided her around to walk in front of him. Her terror was plain for him to see, but he had to respect the fact that she kept going. Placing his hand on her shoulder he meant to guide her and prevent her from slipping again. But she repeatedly shied away from his touch. Finally, he let her be and kept an eye on her instead.

The company drew up sharply then. The stairs were broken leaving a gap. The space between them plunged down hundreds of feet. Lana reeled back agitatedly.

"Ah fuck! What now?" She asked breathlessly to no one in particular.

She jumped as Legolas placed a hand on her shoulder again. He lightly stepped around her and moved down the steps. Without expending any effort, he jumped the gap and held out his arms for her to jump. Her eyes grew huge and she shook her head vehemently.

Gandalf stepped in front of her. Even as she shrank back from the gap she watched as the old man leaped the space. Legolas caught him easily.

"Merry! Pippin!" Boromir called.

The man gathered up the hobbits, one in each arm, and jumped. Lana's heart was in her throat, but they made it safely. Unable to stand due to her shaking she sank down on the steps.

Aragorn looked at her in concern. "Lana you must jump!" He said over the roaring of their pursuer.

"I—I can't!" She gasped.

She was petrified of heights, and she felt like the ground was spinning beneath her feet. Despite the terror that followed them, she couldn't move.

Frowning Aragorn reached down and pulled her up. Glaring into her fearful eyes he said, "You can—and you _will!_"

He could feel her entire body shaking uncontrollably, but she nodded. Watching her to make sure she didn't slip he waited.

"Come on, Lana!" Merry called encouragingly.

Pippin flapped his hands to prompt her as well. Swallowing thickly she gathered herself. Before she could allow her brain to stop her she ran and jumped. For a terrifying moment she fell through space. Then she felt a solid body halt her descent. Strong arms wrapped tightly around her and the scent of leather, masculine sweat, and earth tones filled her nose.

"Well done," he whispered in her ear before pushing her behind him.

Lana moved jerkily, but Legolas' words of praise were empowering. She had made it! Merry grabbed her hand and she gripped it tightly. Aragorn had since tossed Sam over and moved to do the same with Gimli.

Without warning, an arrow whistled past Lana's head. Another hit the steps by Sam's feet. Immediately Legolas lifted his bow and shot back at the orcs who had positioned themselves on a level above them. Aragorn too responded in kind.

The orcs fell shrieking to their deaths. Aragorn turned back to Gimli, but the dwarf held up a firm hand.

"Nobody tosses a Dwarf!" He declared stoutly.

With a mighty leap, the son of Glóin launched into the air. He did not quite make it, though. Lana gasped sharply, her hand squeezing Merry's.

With lightning reflexes, Legolas' hand shot out and grabbed onto the first thing he could catch.

"Not the beard!" Gimli howled.

However, Legolas managed to pull him forward, thus saving the dwarf from falling into the abyss. The stairs started crumbling. Frodo and Aragorn leapt back, narrowly escaping the disaster. Lana bit her fist in fear.

The gap was now huge. No one could cross it without falling. The Fellowship watched in helpless horror. Behind them, the balrog moved beyond the wall. It seemed to pound against it. Cracks appeared, running up the stone. Lana saw Aragorn lean down to Frodo, but she couldn't catch what he said.

Without warning, a piece of the ceiling came crashing down. It landed on the stairs behind the Ranger and hobbit. The impact caused the decrepit steps to buckle and then break off from the rest. Aragorn grabbed Frodo tightly as the now loose stairs started to wobble. It teetered dangerously to the right then left.

"Lean forward!" He shouted to the petrified hobbit.

Slowly the stairs started to fall forward. Legolas and Boromir stood ready to catch them. The force of the impact nearly threw them all off the intact stairs, but Legolas caught Aragorn, and Boromir, Frodo.

Feeling a tug on her hand Lana obediently followed Merry. They raced away through a passage and out towards the bridge. At this point, the heat from the fires was nearly unbearable. Sweat dripped down Lana's back, but she didn't feel it. The only thing that mattered was running.

"Over the bridge!" Gandalf commanded. "Fly!"

Boromir took the lead with Merry and Pippin after him. Lana halted again seeing the narrow bridge and the huge empty space that it spanned. Once more her fear grew.

Seeing the woman freeze up once more, Legolas did not hesitate to grab her arm this time. "Come!" He ordered intractably and pulled her after him.

Lana had no air in her lungs to protest. Her fear was making it difficult to breath. Or it might have been the heat, or the bizarre sensation that ran up her arm as the elf's hand gripped her wrist. Or perhaps it was a combination of all three. She didn't know what to think.

As they raced to the other side, she released a breath she did not realize she had been holding. Legolas frowned as she collapsed against a boulder practically sobbing. But he didn't spare her another look. The heat and firelight grew exponentially and when he turned, the elf felt all his courage fail him.

Gandalf stood alone in the middle of the bridge facing the bane of Elves, Men, and Dwarves. A servant of Morgoth stepped forward like a nightmare from history.

"You cannot pass!" The wizard bellowed.

"Gandalf!" Frodo's cry echoed loudly.

The entire Fellowship watched in horror as the creature beat its ash-laden wings. The balrog puffed up its chest and the flames grew brighter. But the posturing did not faze the wizard. If anything, the light on the end of his staff grew brighter, and his sword reflected back the white light.

"I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. Dark fire shall not avail you Flame of Udûn!"

The balrog drew out a sword of shooting flame. It brought it down smashing it on the wizard. Lana's scream of terror was drowned out by a sound like thunder. To everyone's astonishment, the monster's sword shattered as it struck Gandalf's.

It roared in fury.

"Go back to the shadow!" Gandalf commanded his voice echoing off the mighty cavern walls.

The balrog did not back down. Instead, it drew out a whip of fire. It cracked it overhead and the scent of brimstone filled the air.

"YOU SHALL NOT PASS!"

Gandalf thrust his staff down with both hands. A flash like lightening illuminated the chamber. The balrog hesitated for a moment, flaring its nostrils as it glared with empty eyes. Then it roared and stepped onto the bridge.

The stone, however, buckled and gave way. The company watched in awe-filled horror as the balrog fell before Gandalf. Its whip flashed in the darkness. Gandalf sighed deeply and turned away.

From her angle, Lana could see the demon as it fell. Panic seized her when she saw the monster flick its wrist. Her cry was lost however amid the deafening sounds of chaos that erupted. The whip wrapped around the wizard's ankle and pulled him over the edge.

"GANDALF!"

Frodo launched himself forward as if he meant to save the wizard.

"No—No!" Boromir caught the little hobbit and restrained him.

For a moment, time seemed to halt. Gandalf looked into each of their eyes. Lana felt her heart break as a strange knowledge filled her. In his terror-filled eyes, Lana saw that Gandalf was no mere wizard…but something far more and infinitely precious.

"Run you fools!" He rasped, breaking the spell that seemed to hold them immobile.

And then he was gone.

Frodo cried, his wailing echoed in the cavernous space. Stunned, Lana just sat there clutching the boulder onto which she had fallen. Arrows started whizzing through the air.

"Gandalf!" Boromir yelled, heartbrokenly.

The Fellowship dodged the missiles and made for the stairs that led out of the cavern. And still Lana could not move. Only when an arrow shot past, nicking her ear did she jerk to life. Aragorn was one of the last to leave. He latched onto her arm and shoved her before him out into the sunlight.

* * *

_Thoughts? Comments? Send me a note!_

_Thanks for reading!_


	6. Loss

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story. **

I make no claim to Tolkien's works_._ I also give credit to Cormak3032.

Thank you for the lovely reviews!

* * *

**Chapter 5: Loss**

Bursting into the pure light of day the Fellowship crumbled into despair. Merry and Pippin openly sobbed while Sam held his face in his hands. Boromir had to hold Gimli back. The dwarf was demanding that justice must be had. It took all the Gondorian's strength to prevent Gimli from dashing back inside.

As for Legolas, he looked about, not really seeing anything. He was no stranger to death but this…what he had just witnessed…he couldn't form a coherent thought. Torpidly he looked at the world not even sure of what he was seeing. In his heart grief took hold as well as a deep shame.

Aragorn was still gripping Lana by the arm as he raced into the broad daylight. He looked about seeing this now broken company. He looked down then realizing that he still held onto the woman he let go jerkily. She looked up at him. In her eyes he saw the reflection of his own narcosis. He blinked.

_Her eyes are blue…_

In the light of day the color was clear now. Her eyes were a deep blue. And they looked at him, dazed and confused. He turned away, unable to hold her gaze.

Looking up he knew that they had to get away from the mines as quickly as possible. He attempted to clean his sword and frowned in consternation at his shaking hands. Collecting himself he called out to the elf.

"Legolas. Get them up."

The Mirkwood elf turned to him blankly for a moment before gradually moving towards the youngest hobbits.

"Give them a moment for pity's sake!" Boromir blurted in distress. Tears were visible in his eyes.

"By nightfall these hills will be swarming with orcs!" Aragorn argued back. "We must reach the woods of Lothlórien."

Lana blinked as if coming back to consciousness. Aragorn stepped up to her and said quietly, "You will come with us." Then he turned and moved towards the still reeling Fellowship.

"Come Boromir, Legolas, Gimli—get them up. On your feet, Sam." He patted the weeping hobbit on the shoulder.

Turning he searched for Frodo. The dark-haired hobbit had wandered down a ways, drifting among the steppes that made up the once glorious path to Moria.

"Frodo? Frodo!"

The hobbit halted and turned. The woe in his eyes was unbearable. Slowly he returned to the group. While they waited Aragorn untied a dagger from his belt.

"Here; take this." He offered it to Lana.

She stared numbly at the blade, then her eyes seemed to widen. She shook her head. Aragorn opened his mouth to say something then frowned. She was wounded, and he only just now noticed it. The cut on her cheek was oozing. Blood mingled with her tears. He could also see a trail of blood on her neck. And her left arm too had been slashed.

"You are injured," he observed in concern. "But they do not appear to be life-threatening." He inspected her with his eyes closely. "They will need tending once we reach safety."

He held out the dagger to her again. Once more she shook her head. Annoyed, he grabbed her hand and set the dagger in it. Giving her a stern look he then turned away.

"Let us go!" He called to the group.

Striking out on a path Aragorn led them away from the dark door of Moria. The sun was high. They only had half a day to reach the safety of the Golden Wood.

The Ranger kept them at a dogged pace; only allowing them to stop once at a stream to refill waterskins and catch their breath. Lana for her part continued to move numbly. Once at the stream, she sated her thirst without giving a thought that the untreated water might make her sick. Splashing the chilled liquid on her face, she rubbed away the grime and blood. The cut on her cheek stung, but it made her more alert.

Feeling somewhat coherent she dragged her body onwards, following the indefatigable Ranger. In her mind, she tried to piece together what had just happened to her life in the last few days.

The group was quiet as they ran on. Dread kept their feet moving expeditiously. No one wanted to encounter the enemy at night. When the sun began to set, they entered a wooded area. It was not Lothlórien, but it was close. While Aragorn was loath to do it he brought them to a halt. The company was spent; and even he felt as if a great weight rested on his shoulders, hunching them forward.

He found a place that could be easily defended for their camp. They would rest there for the night. A watch would be set. Until then they dispersed to set up their Spartan bivouac.

Lana volunteered to collect firewood. It gave her a chance to get away from all these men. Her brain was still in shock, unable to process everything in a way that made any sense. She wanted to use this time to try and get some of her mind in order.

As she stooped to pick up dry sticks and twigs she thought back to Aragorn's words. _Only a small fire tonight_. They did not want to attract unwanted attention. The idea of fire sent a tremor through her body. Would she ever be able to look at a flame again without freaking out? When she closed her eyes all she could see was that demon creature that killed Gandalf.

"You are injured."

Lana physically jumped and dropped half of her kindling. Whipping around she saw the elf watching her. Swallowing she bent down to fetch the fallen the branches. Irritation flashed through her as well as discomfort.

"I'm fine. It's nothing."

When she straightened she nearly jumped again but swore under her breath instead. He was now standing right next to her. She frowned. _How…?_ She hadn't heard him move. Backing away she continued to scavenge for wood choosing to look busy. She could feel the elf's eyes on her. _Please! Just go away!_

The last thing she wanted right now was this freakish glowing creature with pointed ears watching her. She peeked sideways under her lashes at him. Yes. He literally _glowed._

_It's probably just the lighting, fool. _But that explanation did not make her feel any better. Swallowing she kept focused on her task.

Legolas frowned as he studied her. She was a strange woman and he still didn't know what to make of her. Still, she was now a part of this company, and that meant she was now part of his concern.

"They should be attended to." He pressed.

The last thing they needed was for her to fall ill from her wounds. Without warning, she spun around, her eyes flashing brazenly. Whatever she wanted to say was immediately swallowed back. They regarded each other silently before Lana exhaled loudly through her nose. She brushed past him and returned to camp, her arms laden with kindling.

Legolas furrowed his brows, but he did not follow her. Instead, he scouted the trees around them checking for signs of danger. He could not be bothered with the foreign woman now.

Lana set about creating the campfire with Merry's help. She riffled through her backpack and found her Zippo lighter. The device enchanted both Merry and Pippin, but it seemed too much to ask to be truly curious. It appeared that even their irrepressible natures were bruised and battered.

"You're hurt," Sam said as he came back to camp with some herbs stuffed in his pockets.

Lana ground her teeth and forced herself to answer politely. "It's fine, Sam. No worries."

"Orcs coat their weapons with poison," Boromir said from where he now sat. "You could die from such a wound."

Lana met the man's eyes. She had an uneasy feeling that he would be just fine that. Scowling at him she tossed her loose hair over her shoulder.

"I appreciate your _concern_," she replied sarcastically. "But I'm fine."

Animals bare their teeth to warn and threaten. People bare theirs as a sign of friendliness usually. Lana bared her teeth in something that could have been interpreted smile, or a warning. The expression was not lost on the man, and Boromir leveled a virulent look at her.

"You pretend to be brave, but you are nothing more than a frightened little maid!"

The way he said 'little maid' caused Lana to curl her lip in disdain. She ignored him but in doing so missed the furtive glance Boromir sent in Frodo's direction.

He continued on grousing. "You have no strength, no skill, no use…_it _will take control of you. You will be our downfall!"

Tossing her hair out of her face again she looked at him as if he was mad. "What the hell are you talking about? What will control me?"

She caught Frodo staring at her with intense eyes. He looked away when her gaze met his. Beyond confused, tired, and physically in pain, she felt herself growing impatient.

"We never should have brought you along!" Boromir continued doggedly. "You're a burden and you'll be the death of us all!"

"Boromir! That is enough!" Aragorn snapped. The Ranger reappeared carrying two fish that he caught from the stream. He tossed them on the ground next to Sam. "There will be no bickering among us!" He ordered.

"And who left you in charge?" Boromir jeered.

The Ranger met the challenge evenly. "Gandalf."

That ended all arguments and discussions. Frodo looked down his eyes suspiciously glassy. His hand gripped the front of his shirt. Lana felt her own heart contract. She thought that she sympathized with his feelings, but…there seemed to be unidentifiable aura hung around the hobbit. It was like a cloak and it baffled her. But she just didn't care enough to puzzle over it now.

A new thought came into her head then: everyone was hiding something from her. She quickly reviewed her conversations and what she had observed. All in all, the group had been more than reticent about its mission. And that made her think…

They seemed to be very careful with their words and most spoke in hushed tones around her. The only exceptions were Merry and Pippin. But they never seemed to talk about anything of real import. She tapped the first two fingers of her right hand on the sheathed knife in her lap thoughtfully. The muted click of her fingernails made her frown and she hastily set the weapon aside.

This was not just a simple quest she decided…it was something more. She was a journalist after all, and she knew faces and emotions _very_ well. Something was not right here. Secrets were thick like a miasma around her.

Moving back from the fire, she leaned against a tree and watched the Fellowship. This was the first time she actually took the time to truly observed them. _It seems that I have accepted that this isn't a dream after all, _she mused sardonically. If this had been a dream, she was certain she would have woken up by now. And — she wouldn't be hurting like this. Not to mention she would have had given herself extraordinary powers or something if this was a dream.

The cut on her cheek had dried and it now itched. Suppressing the urge to scratch it she distracted herself by watching her reluctant companions.

The group was very subdued and Lana was not unaffected by it. She had been through hell with them, but she wondered what it was that brought this strange group of people together. Observing Frodo while she ate her supper she concluded that it had to do something with him. Everyone seemed deferential to the hobbit and she wondered just who he was.

As darkness fell, they snuffed out the fire and prepared to rest. Aragorn volunteered to take the first watch and Legolas the second, with Boromir taking the last shift. Lana moved a little ways further from the group and sat behind a tree. Partially hidden she allowed herself a private moment to grieve on her own.

It wasn't just for Gandalf. In truth, she wasn't really mourning for the wizard in particular. While he had earned a soft spot in her heart, she had only known him for a few days. No, it was for her home and her life that she mourned now.

She stared through the leaves towards the sky. The few stars that she could see brought some solace to her. Trying to make out the constellations she silently wished she had paid more attention in her high school astronomy class. The sound of a twig snapping made her jump.

"Ah! Shit, Aragorn!" She murmured, trying to catch her running heart.

He grimaced apologetically. "I've come to tend your wounds."

She blinked at him blankly then shrugged. "They're fine; not bleeding anymore."

He regarded her closely for a moment. "Boromir was correct when he said that orcs taint their weapons with poison. Even the smallest wound could mean death if left unattended."

Lana thought that if any of her wounds had been poisoned she would have felt it by now.

"I don't feel sick," she replied tonelessly.

"Not now, but that could change." He countered.

Not wishing to argue she merely shrugged again. She allowed him to clean the cut on her cheek and ear. The astringent made her eyes water, but she didn't flinch. He coaxed her out of her fleecy jacket and flannel shirt so that he could clean the gash on her right arm.

She barely remembered getting that one. An orc's blade had caught her unawares in Balin's tomb. He met his death swiftly by one of Legolas' impressive shots.

For his part, Aragorn's eyes were drawn to her right shoulder. A complex but artful pattern of flowers and images were inked into her skin. He quickly diverted his gaze back to his task, but he wondered at this woman yet again.

"None are as bad as I feared. They are all superficial." He bandaged the gash on her arm with a length of cleanish cloth. "You are very lucky."

She snorted dryly. "Lucky."

Aragorn watched her face. He sensed her sorrow and her abiding confusion. Her first days had been traumatic to say the least. For a woman she was handling it well enough, he thought. He knew plenty others who could not do so. Gandalf was right when he said that she had courage in her. The potential was there.

"You will need to be trained," he told her matter-of-factly. "You could have been killed today."

She huffed dryly. Her lips curved in a humorless smile. "I should have died so many times before."

He cocked his head with a frown. But she did not elaborate. Instead, she said, "But…I would surely have died today if it hadn't been for you and that elf."

She met his eyes then, and he saw gratefulness there. Then her gaze shifted over her shoulder to the camp. Aragorn followed her gaze. Boromir glanced their way and then looked away sourly.

"Do not take what Boromir said to heart. He is not himself. Moreover, he had no right to insult you."

Lana turned back around to stare into the trees. "He doesn't concern me." She confided flatly in that low husky voice of hers.

"Then what troubles you, my lady?"

She glanced at him with a raised brow. It was the first time anyone had addressed her as such. It was weird.

"Many small things…many small things all bound together into one big thing." She sighed and leaned back against the tree. "I still have no idea what happened to me; nor do I even have a close understanding of any of this. The one person that I felt I could trust is now gone."

Her voice ended in a whisper. Aragorn watched as deep-rooted emotions nearly broke to the surface and then were pushed away.

"We all cherished Gandalf," he offered softly. She nodded. "He had faith in you," the man continued. "He believed you would become far more than who you are now."

Her gaze met his then thoughtfully. "He said that?"

"Aye. He did. I can help teach you, but you must work hard, and you must shed any fears or doubts you may hold."

Her eyes shifted downward as she cradled her right wrist in her left hand. Her thumb rubbed the fine bones there. After a moment she nodded.

A long silence grew between them. Aragorn knew that she was mourning Gandalf just like the rest of them. But he also understood that she must be yearning for the home that had been snatched from her so unexpectedly.

There would be time enough later to discuss training. Realizing that she most likely wanted to be alone with her thoughts, he started to rise.

"Where is it that we are going again? Loth…Lothlor…" she stumbled over the name.

"Lothlórien," he said, settling back down. "It is the home of the Lady of Light." Seeing her confusion he clarified. "One of the homes of the elves."

Her brows drew together thoughtfully. "Is that where…" she glanced back towards camp.

Legolas was staring at them from where he reclined against a tree. He did not look away as her eyes met his. His look was nearly physical. Suppressing a shiver, Lana looked back to Aragorn. He shook his head.

"No. He hails from the Woodland Realm—Mirkwood. It is far to the north of here."

Lana's lips drew downward into a frown. A melancholy settled on her features. "I don't know anything about these places…it's all unfamiliar to me," she lamented softly.

Aragorn touched her shoulder and gave her a slight smile of encouragement—though it took some effort to give her even that. She was still a stranger to him—to the Fellowship—and his own heart was heavy with grief. But he assumed the mantle of leader without complaint.

"For now they are. Perhaps one day you will be familiar with them. Mayhap you will even see them with your own eyes." Squeezing her shoulder he rose and left her to her thoughts.

Lana watched him briefly then looked ahead into the trees once more. With a sigh, she drew her legs up and rested her forehead on her knees. She resisted the idea of becoming familiar with any of these places. All she wanted was a one-way ticket home.

_Is that too much to ask?_

Gandalf had said she would live and die in this world. She refused to believe him—for all his otherworldly wisdom he wasn't a god—gods couldn't die after all. And he had. Besides, there were simple laws in the universe and one of those was this: For every action, there is an opposite and equal reaction.

Simply put, there _had_ to be a way back. And she would find it.

But for now, she was stuck in this strange place with even stranger people. She stared out blankly into the deepening dark and let her mind wander. Too tired to stop the thoughts and emotions they welled up like molasses in her brain she let them ebb and overflow. It was a slow trickle that had little strength but was nonetheless difficult to stop. Unbidden, the liquid from her heart gathered in her eyes.

Legolas rose as Aragorn returned to the main camp. He had heard him speaking with the woman, but despite having acute hearing he had not been able to decipher many of their words for they had been hushed. He had heard "Lothlórien" and caught the woman's look as she turned to him. He knew his name had been spoken as well.

_"__How is she faring?"_ He asked softly in his native tongue.

Most of the camp was now resting, if not already sleeping. It would not do to wake them. Aragorn moved further into the trees and Legolas followed.

"She grieves like the rest of us. Her heart is heavy," the man replied in the Common Tongue.

Legolas frowned. "She is frightened."

"She has every reason to be. She knows nothing of this land or the dangers that we face."

Legolas looked at his friend intently. "I have a terrible feeling that something is going to happen. It is not safe for her here."

Aragorn paused and sent him a searching look. Legolas' intuitions were rarely wrong. But the elf offered nothing more.

"Gandalf believed in her," Aragorn stated. "She will prove her worth and become a skilled warrior in time." He glanced back to where the woman sat partially screened by the trees. Then he returned his look to Legolas. "I will start her training as soon as we reach the safety of the Golden Wood."

When Legolas remained silent, Aragorn started to move off to take his watch. But then the Legolas spoke up again.

"She speaks to you?"

Turning back he regarded the Mirkwood elf. "Some."

Legolas' dark brows furrowed then. "She fears me. I see it in her eyes."

Aragorn's brows drew together slightly. He did not know what to say to that. "She has never met an elf before," he offered.

Legolas' lips thinned. "Perhaps not, but neither has she ever met a dwarf or hobbit, yet she speaks with Gimli and the Halflings." He countered smoothly. "They were speaking after supper."

Aragorn tilted his head. "Does this trouble you?"

Legolas seemed disinclined to answer but then he said, "I should be feared by the enemy; not by one of our own. I have done nothing to harm her."

In fact, he had done quite the opposite. He had saved her several times already. Her behavior confused him and pricked at his sensibilities — as well as needled his heart. Aragorn clapped him gently on the shoulder.

"She doesn't see herself as one of us; not yet anyhow. Give her time, _mellon nín. _She will come around."

Legolas nodded slowly, accepting this answer. For now.

"Do not forget, everything here is strange and new to her," Aragorn added.

That was true. Legolas gave the Ranger a grateful smile. He hoped Aragorn's words would prove true. But perhaps, in the end, it wouldn't matter. They might very well leave the woman in Lothlórien.

When his time to take over the watch came, the woman was still awake. She had not returned to camp but remained some distance away. This concerned Legolas, although he couldn't pinpoint why. He eventually told himself that it was because if there were an attack she would not be protected—sitting as far as she was from the group. She was distancing herself from those that would help her.

His ears caught the faint sound of crying and he turned slightly so that he could observe her unnoticed. She was still sitting by that tree, her face buried in her arms.

He stood still, uncertain. He contemplated going to her but was confident that such an action would be unwise. She would not appreciate his company. And he was loathed to see that ambiguous dread enter her eyes. It appeared every time their gazes met.

He heard a movement and saw that Aragorn had also heard her. The Ranger had already left his bedroll. Legolas watched as she shied away from the man. He heard their hushed voices and turned away. It was impolite to eavesdrop after all. Still, curiosity uncharacteristically nagged at him, demanding his interest. Purposely tuning his ears to the forest, he resisted the urge to listen to their voices.

Lana had thought she had been quiet. She had not meant to breakdown and was furious with herself. And embarrassed. Especially since Aragorn had heard her. He had been asleep! If he heard her in his sleep there was no doubt the elf must have heard her as well.

She had been looking through her backpack and found her wallet. She had pulled out the pictures inside. There were only a few. One of her father, and another of her mother—they were divorced, hence two separate pictures.

There was a picture of her and her girlfriends in Italy, and another of her in Afghanistan surrounded by smiling children. That had been a good day. There was also a picture of her sweet but rather crazy cat, Pángur Bán. The fluffy Angora was exceptionally photogenic—once he sat still.

And then there was one of herself and her brother in Costa Rica. Her twin was ridiculous—as ridiculous as her. And perhaps just a bit smarter. _Or saner…_ He had chosen to be an engineer. His job was safe and well paid.

She, on the other hand, had doubled majored in linguistics and Classical studies. And went on to get her master's in journalism. She had spent five years covering stories from the Middle East, Africa, and South East Asia. She had spent part of one of those years as a hostage of Al-Qaeda. It had been the most terrifying and demoralizing period of her life.

When she had been released she had been war-weary and shell-shocked. The PTSD was terrible. The only one who was able to bring her back had been Aidan. Sweet, loving, _annoying_ Aidan. He wouldn't allow her to wallow. Instead, he filled her life with light, laughter, and fun. He was able to reach past her demons and find the girl who had been lost.

They had taken that trip to Costa Rica so that she could relax. It had been a good trip. And that's when the tears started to flow. As she looked at his ridiculous smiling face she could no longer hold back, and the slow trickle had become a rushing torrent down her cheeks.

"What is wrong?" Aragorn asked, kneeling beside her.

Jumping she drew away from him. She hated to cry, and she hated being caught crying even more. Roughly she brushed the traitorous liquid away.

"I cannot help you if you do not answer me," Aragorn informed her gently.

Lana sighed and lifted red eyes to him. He could see that she was still guarded but then, to his surprise she let go of her barriers. A deep pain shone in her eyes that shocked him—though he didn't know why it bothered him so. Then she handed him a small stack of thick paper. Aragorn took it carefully into his hands.

He looked down in amazement. The images he saw were so clear and vibrant. They looked to be exact copies of real life. Whoever the artist was they had more skill than even the elven portrait painters. He looked carefully through the images, noting the ones of a man and then a woman. He looked up at Lana and then back to the pictures seeing a family resemblance.

_Her parents,_ he realized suddenly. The next few made him wonder at the landscapes behind the figures, and why she had a picture of a white cat. Then he saw the one of her and a young man.

They were embracing each other joyfully, arms hugging each other's waists. The man was shirtless, and so too was Lana much to Aragorn's embarrassment. However, she wore a top that just covered her breasts.

Both of them were tattooed and sun-kissed. They had their free arms raised as if in salute. They were laughing. _Is this her lover?_

"That's Aidan," Lana said suddenly, interrupting his thoughts. "He's my twin brother."

"And these are…your parents?" He pulled out the two other pictures. Lana nodded. "You miss your family," he realized aloud.

She nodded, more tears escaping her eyes.

"I am sorry," he offered sincerely. "The pain lessens with time." His words were sympathetic.

His heart felt for her. Not only had she lost Gandalf, but her family as well. In fact, her whole life as she knew it was gone. He understood. Looking at her face he watched as Lana swatted away the tears that still rolled down her cheeks.

"It is just…it's difficult to think that…I'm…_never_ going to see them again." She choked out.

"While you will not see them in the flesh, at least you have these images to see with your eyes; you have the memories in your mind and love for them in your heart."

"That's not enough." She said bitterly. "I know it will have to be someday, but right now…I feel so alone," she lowered her head to her knees again. "I didn't even get to say good-bye." She whispered brokenly.

Feeling compelled, Aragorn reached out and stroked her head, pushing her dirty hair behind her ear.

"We all feel alone at times," he said softly. "But we do not have to remain as such."

Lana lifted her face and peered at him through glassy eyes.

"While there is much we do not know about you, and much you don't know about us, there is time to learn. Time to create new friendships." He lifted his brows and gave her a slight smile.

Lana regarded him with a single lifted brow. "But everyone is so guarded, and half of you guys are reluctant to talk to me…and honestly, I'm not feeling very loquacious myself." She grimaced. "How can I make friends if everyone thinks I am not trustworthy?"

Aragorn sighed. "You are not untrustworthy. You will discover the answers you seek, but not overnight. These are dangerous times for Middle Earth. Knowledge can be deadly."

Lana wrinkled her nose at that. "So is the _lack_ of knowledge," she retorted dryly.

Aragorn knew she was right, but he also knew that it was not wise to tell her about the Ring. Not until she knew more about her surroundings and how to defend herself. And despite his words, he needed to ensure himself that she could be trusted to keep this knowledge secret.

"I promise you that the answers you seek will be given, but only if you are willing to open yourself up to the friendship that surrounds you."

Properly abashed she gave him a sheepish smile. "Well, I guess you're right." She gave him a sidelong look. "Perhaps I'm lucky after all."

Aragorn chuckled softly. "True enough. You should rest. There is still a long journey ahead to Lothlórien, and you will need all your strength."

She nodded solemnly. Aragorn rose and offered his hand. "Come,"

He pulled her up. For a moment, they regarded each other. Then Lana smiled softly, even a bit shyly. "Thank you, Aragorn. I needed a friend right now."

"You are most welcome." A spot of warmth touched his weary heart.

He was pleased that she trusted him enough to call him a friend. It was certainly a beginning. Leading her back to the camp proper he helped her settle down with the others. He offered his bedroll to her, hushing her protests.

Lana stretched out on the canvas roll and gazed thoughtfully at her sleeping companions. The hobbits were all dead asleep, except for Frodo, who moved restlessly. Boromir lay snoring softly by the log he had sat on earlier. Gimli's heavy breathing was distracting and she wondered if she could sleep through his racket.

Shifting her gaze she watched as Aragorn joined Legolas at the tree line. She observed them until her eyes grew heavy. And at last, sleep came.

Aragorn sighed heavily as he stood beside Legolas. He knew the elf most likely heard the majority of their conversation. He needn't tell him what had transpired. Legolas had also seen Aragorn help Lana settle down for the night. She seemed comforted by the Ranger's presence.

_"__Maer ha i e hirnen ben esteliad." _Legolas told him. _It is good that she had found someone to trust._

Aragorn stood looking up through the leaves. Stars could be seen winking through the foliage.

_"__Harthon esteliatha 'waith bain."_ _I hope that she will trust everyone._

Legolas smiled, hoping for the same. The two returned their gaze to the land and together held the remainder of the watch in silence.

* * *

_Thank you again for reading! Constructive criticism, reviews, love to the author is always appreciated. If you caught any typos, grammatical errors, inconsistencies please let me know! I have a terrible habit of using American and British spellings at the same time. Product of growing up in the US but going to Uni in the UK. Hugs to you all!_


	7. Lothlórien

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.**

I make no claims on Tolkien's works. I also give credit to Cormak3032.

* * *

**Chapter 6: Lothlórien**

At dawn, the Fellowship set out with renewed purpose. In their hearts, they still grieved deeply for Gandalf. But there was a quest to fulfill, and they knew they had to carry on. They all had a reason to carry on.

Except the woman.

Lana had found sleep difficult. Despite falling into a deep slumber, she woke with a feeling, not unlike a hangover. With the sunrise, she felt more withdrawn. It was a toss up between exhaustion and feeling like an outsider that caused her to focus inwardly.

She would speak only if spoken to, and if she did converse at all it was really only with Aragorn. Even that was limited for he had taken the lead while she tended to fall behind.

While her behavior was troubling, Aragorn had no time to dwell on the single problems of only one member of the group. He had hoped his words from the night before would have an impact on her, but she remained closed off.

For now, his mind was only for getting the travel-worn Fellowship to the Golden Wood as quickly as possible. The land began to change as they ran on. Rocky hillsides became softer and more trees started appearing. The sun was starting to set by the time they slowed their pace. Aragorn paused and ran his hand over the bark of one of the trees, almost in greeting. An eerie silence surrounded them.

Lana skidded to a halt as if she hit a physical barrier. She wasn't the only one to look about in wonder…or apprehension. There was the acute sense that they had stepped over a border of some sort. The air here felt…_alive_. She inched closer to Merry and Pippin.

The feeling she had come to associate with Legolas seemed to multiply by fifty—no, a hundred times. They were being watched. She knew it.

A golden light filtered through the trees and it was breathtaking—but otherworldly. Glancing at Legolas, Lana saw that he too was looking about in awe. _Well, neither he or Aragorn seem concerned…_

"Stick close young hobbits!" Gimli said, flagging Frodo and Sam closer. "They say that a great sorceress lives in these woods. An elf-witch of terrible power,"

Lana stared at the dwarf. _An _elf_-witch?_ Where exactly was Aragorn taking them? After all that she had seen, she wouldn't put it past this world to have actual real witches.

"All who look upon her, fall under her spell," Gimli continued. "And are never seen again."

There was a breeze, like a breath on the wind. Lana saw Frodo pause unexpectedly with eyes widened. _At least I'm not the only one!_ Lana could swear that she felt a presence hovering around her.

"Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked in concern. Frodo just shook his head and continued to walk.

"Well, here's one dwarf she won't ensnare so easily. I have the eyes of a hawk and the ears of a fox—_oh!"_

Lana had only blinked and in that half-second they had become surrounded. The only sound had been the soft creaking of wood as twenty-odd bows were drawn back. She froze instinctively and she stared at the arrowhead that was just inches from her nose.

Not even Legolas was exempt. He must have drawn his bow at the same moment as their antagonists. He glanced about with a highly worried expression.

"The dwarf breathes so loud we could have shot him in the dark." The smooth voice sent shivers down Lana's spine. Gimli for his part growled and sent the speaker a dark glower. A commanding fair-haired elf stood just before Aragorn who greeted him in his own tongue.

_"Haldir o Lorien,"_

Lana's gaze shifted back to the elf nearest her and she deliberately backed away. Unknowingly this brought her closer to Legolas. The elf who had her in his sights watched her blankly, but then his eyes shifted to look her over. Lana thought she saw his lip curl in what looked like amused disdain.

Suddenly irritation replaced her fear. She narrowed her eyes and shot him a dark look. _I'd like to see you cross space and time, get dragged through caves and chased by demons and still manage to look flawless._

"Aragorn! These woods are perilous! We should go back," Gimli called nervously.

"You have entered the realm of the Lady of the Wood. You cannot go back." The leader of these elves said.

His imperious glance flittered over them. It paused briefly on Lana. She felt the strength of his gaze like a physical caress, and Lana fought the urge to fidget. She wondered what he found so interesting about her, but then he looked at Frodo.

His eyes widened, an intensity entering them. "You bring great evil with you!" He said in a low voice. Turning he said to Aragorn, "You may go no further."

Slowly everyone turned and stared at Frodo who seemed to shrink under the weight of their gazes.

o0o

Haldir, March Warden of the Golden Woods, brought them up into the trees for the night. He seemed loath to have them stay at all, but he finally agreed to give them one night's protection, honoring the friendship he shared with Aragorn.

Climbing up into the canopy, Lana couldn't help but think of the Lost Boys of Never-Never-Land. But the accommodations were spartan at best. The rope ladder was difficult for some of the Fellowship but she, for once, was able to do something without looking like a complete idiot.

When she reached the top she found that she was looking at the elf who had earlier pointed his weapon at her. He gave her an amused look as he offered his hand to her. His icy silvery-blue eyes reminded her of Haldir's. In fact, he looked like he could be related to the imperious March Warden, though she couldn't be sure.

At the moment, all these elves looked related—and she wasn't entirely certain she could tell them apart. When their hands touched, her skin tingled just a little but she dismissed it. All she wanted to do was get away from him and his fellow wardens' piercing eyes. It was bad enough with just Legolas, but now…

Lana was both amazed and terrified of being up in the trees. She kept well away from the edge of the platform she sat on. She sat down with Merry and Pippin and waited for something to happen.

Aragorn was pleading their case with Haldir several platforms away. She watched as the Ranger gestured emphatically to the stony elf.

"What do you think, Pip?" Merry asked. "All this elf business makes no sense to me."

Pippin pursed his lips then shrugged. "Well, I think they know."

"Shh! Pippin!"

The youngest hobbit looked startled then glanced at the elves and then Lana. She gave him a half-smile of sympathy. The poor hobbit never seemed to get a break. She found his fumbling earnestness endearing.

"It's not natural," Sam said from where he sat.

"What's that?" Merry asked.

"All this tree business. No respectable folk would live in a tree."

Silently Lana laughed. _Touché, Sam._

"It's not right, none of it." The sandy-haired hobbit bemoaned.

"Oh, I don't know, I think I kind of like it," Merry replied.

"Humph! Trust a Brandybuck and a Took to _like_ sitting up in a tree." Sam shook his head. Then he looked at Lana. "Mistress Lana, are you well?"

The other two hobbits looked her over as well. She gave them a half-hearted smile. "I'm alright. I just don't like heights."

Sam patted her knee comfortingly. "There now, I can understand that. See?" He turned back to Merry and Pippin. "She don't like it neither."

Lana mentally shook her head at the hobbits. Somehow they managed to stay light. Their irrepressible characters were something she envied. She liked them very much she realized with surprise.

Glancing around she saw Aragorn was still beseeching the elf, Haldir. Legolas was standing near the edge of the platform. His face was one of intense concentration. As if sensing her gaze he turned, but she quickly shifted her gaze towards Frodo and Boromir. They were speaking in hushed tones. Gimli sat rigidly near the tree truck as if he too suffered from vertigo.

Eventually, she fell into an uneasy sleep. In her dreams, she heard the ceaseless rustle of millions of leaves in the wind. And in that wind there seemed to be a voice. It called to her, but she couldn't make sense of it.

The following morning, Haldir stepped in front of Frodo. "You will follow me."

The hike into the woods was preceded with a blindfolding. Initially, they intended to blindfold only Gimli. Clearly, the contempt wasn't just isolated between Legolas and the dwarf. Lana wondered what could make dwarves and elves hate each other so. Though she would never ask, she could not help her inquisitive mind. It gave her something else to ponder besides her situation.

Aragorn, in an effort to be fair, said that they would all go blindfolded. Legolas had protested heartily at this. Why should he, an elf, and kinsman be subjected to this? This was the first time Lana had ever seen Legolas behave not in accordance with Aragorn. However, he did submit it to it, in the end, saving what dignity he had left.

The elf who blindfolded her was the same who had raked her over yesterday with his eyes and helped her up the tree. After observing the elves during the night, Lana wondered again if he was in fact related to Haldir. There was certainly a close similarity between them.

He murmured something to her then took her hand. Lana stiffened noticeably. She missed the elf's curious frown, though. Now blind she had to trust this creature. There was nothing to cause her fear for the elves, while standoffish, they had not been cruel to her or anyone in the in the group. Still, Lana felt a nervous response whenever an elf came near. It was several minutes before she calmed enough to allow the elf to guide her.

His hand, which still held hers, finally let go only to shift to her elbow, keeping her on track. He never let her stumble or stray. A mental image of a sheepdog can to her mind. She couldn't help but smile at this for it was absurd but comforting. Again she missed the curious glance from her elf-guide.

As they walked through the woods, Lana decided this wasn't all that bad. The fresh air and birdsong did wonders for her weary soul. She wished that she could see, but found it an interesting exercise to rely on her other senses. It seemed her hearing and sense of smell heightened. Even her tactile senses became more alert.

She didn't think she could hide the shivers that raced through her each time the elf touched her, or when that mysterious sensation of being watched passed over them. While she had grown more used to the alien feeling, she still grimaced each time she felt that foreign touch. If she didn't know better she would have said it was a goose walking over her grave. Her skin broke out in prickles each time this invisible "eye" looked at her.

Half way through the day Haldir declared that they could remove their blindfolds.

"The Lady sends word that you are welcome," he informed them. Stepping up to Gimli, he sketched him a shallow and stiff bow. "Our apologies, Master Dwarf."

Gimli merely glared, but mumbled something along the lines of "apology excepted."

Lana saw that they were on a bank of a swiftly moving river. The melodious sound was soothing and she stared at the water. Her guide appeared at her side making her jump. He flashed her a cheeky grin. Then he spoke and gestured to the water. She glanced at the river then at him. He mimed drinking. _Ah_…she gave him a shy smile and skirted over to the riverbank. The water was cool and refreshing. Her fingers tingled from the cold.

The chill felt particularly good on her parched throat. Scooping up more she rinsed her face and hands. _I wish I could have a bath!_ Although the idea of jumping into an icy river was not so appealing what she could see of her reflection was rather frightening.

She pulled her hair loose from its shabby ponytail and combed it out with her fingers. Then she worked it into a loose braid. The sun had warmed the air enough so that she could shed her thick hoodie. She frowned as she fingered the rip in both the jacket and her flannel shirt.

Later she discovered that her guide's name was Rúmil. He had a mischievous personality and was prone to smiling. Though harmless as he seemed to be, Lana found his presence, or that of any elf, unnerving. He, on the other hand, seemed to find her reticent reactions funny. She got the impression that he would like very much to torment her—much like an annoying brother or cousin.

Thankfully he had duties to attend to and could not hover about her though his eyes strayed to her often. Lana did not notice how another watched her interaction with the warden closely.

Legolas was not one to force his presence on anyone, and he found Rúmil's youthful antics irritating. Lana was clearly uncomfortable by the warden's presence. He was about to intervene when Rúmil sketched her an ironic bow and moved off into the trees.

The puzzled look on Lana's face would have been amusing had not Legolas still felt piqued from the morning. Long had he desired to see Lothlórien, and to have to walk blindfolded through its renowned beauty was infuriating. At least, he soothed himself, he could _now_ see.

After their short break, the Galadhrim held counsel among themselves. Half were to return to the borders and the rest were to guide the strangers with Haldir back to the city.

Rúmil was to stay on the borders. This was both to Lana and Legolas' relief. But had they known they were thinking the same thing, neither would have been able to even look the other in the eye.

They were to cross the rushing stream. This brought quite a bit of consternation to the hobbits and dwarf. Even Boromir looked less than willing to forge the fast flowing water.

Haldir merely smiled smugly at their unhappy faces and then whistled. A warden on the other side of the stream appeared. He tossed a rope to the March Warden who caught it easily with one hand. He secured the rope to a tree and then tested the tension.

"Come, we have made you a bridge."

Lana snorted. "Some bridge," she murmured to Merry and Pippin. They stared at the rope with wide eyes. They clearly thought the elves mad.

"You call that a bridge?" Gimli groused, not hearing her remark. "Elves!" He muttered something invective in his own tongue.

"We can't swim!" Pippin bemoaned to his companions. "What are we going to do?"

What were they going to do indeed?

Grinning superiorly, Haldir hopped up on the rope and balanced with ease. "Fear not! We shall make it easier for you."

Lana frowned studying the rope. She had once been pretty good at tightrope walking. During her undergraduate years, she had been quite the hippie and joined the various free spirited groups that hung around her campus.

One of their favorite pastimes was tightrope walking—a ridiculous and pointless talent that would now be of use to her. She watched as Haldir ran lightly across the rope. His skill was something she could envy. He greeted the other elf and then took another rope and tossed it to Legolas. This he tied to the tree so that it ran parallel over the first, but at a higher height.

Then with annoying ease, he too ran lightly over the rope. The rest of the Fellowship was not so eager.

"Easy enough for them," Sam muttered. "They're elves after all."

Lana chuckled to herself. For once she felt that this was something she could do. Seeing that no one was eager to be next, she asked Aragorn if she could go. His face held nothing short of surprise. But he gallantly helped her up. She grabbed the cheater rope until she found her balance, then walked lightly across, if not quite as quickly or gracefully. Haldir gifted her with a surprised smile.

_"Mae carnen, híril nín," _he said, helping her down. _Well done, my lady._

She smiled a true smile for once. At last, she had shown that she wasn't entirely helpless or incapable. _Who knew all those wasted hours learning this skill would come in handy?_ Glancing at Legolas she saw him watching her intently. Her good mood evaporated under his penetrating gaze. His look felt like a physical touch on her body. Shuddering she quickly diverted her eyes.

Once all had crossed they proceeded onwards single file following a narrow elf-trail. The sun was setting by the time they came to the edge of a large meadow. In the center was a giant copse of trees whose height rivaled the redwoods in Lana's home state of California.

Haldir paused on the summit of a hill that looked upon the majestic trees. Waiting for them all to see, he smiled and swept a hand towards the landscape.

"Caras Galadhon, home of Lord Celeborn and Galadriel, Lady of Light."

The breathtaking sight was something Lana wanted to imprint onto her mind. _If only I had my camera!_ Yet the moment was so perfect she refused to even blink. _It's all just a dream…_Her mind was still warring with her as it fought to understand how and why she was in this land.

Haldir led the group down the hill, but Lana lingered still absorbed in the beauty before her. An elf next to her spoke, smiling in amusement at her. She startled and blinked as if coming out of a spell. The mischievous look in the elf's eyes made her flush and she gave him a nervous smile. He seemed to be laughing at her. Quickly she caught up with Merry and Pippin.

As they came closer to the city in the trees, Lana realized that these were the largest trees she had ever seen. They dwarfed the mighty hardwoods of the South American rainforests, and their girth alone would have made the California redwoods look like toothpicks.

Amazing structures were built in the thick branches. A network of latticed walkways, bridges, and graceful dwelling spaces reminded her old Celtic fairy tales mixed with an Ewok village. _I would have totally been all over this as a kid!_ One corner of her lips quirked as she recanted that—she was totally geeking out about it now! She sighed. Her brother would have loved this.

The smile disappeared however as she felt the otherworldly presence again. The sensation that she felt when she first entered the woods was steadily growing. Whereas before she got used to it now it was permeating all her senses. She felt like she was walking on an electric floor.

She was not the only one who was stunned by the treetop city. Boromir's dark eyes glowed with awe and his haughty face became humbled. The hobbits were whispering among themselves their eyes wide. Even the grumbling Gimli seemed silenced by the beauty around him. Although, Lana thought she heard him grouse that there was no sign of good stonework anywhere.

Legolas…now he appeared far away. His natural glow looked brighter somehow. Lana observed how when he touched a tree his face seemed to light up. He appeared completely oblivious to everyone.

Haldir and his wardens marched the group through a main path and to the largest tree in the city. Up a spiraling staircase, they wound around and around to the top of the tree. The artistry put just into the staircase alone was mind-boggling. The steps were even and wide and very smooth. The handrails, when there were some, were intricately carved with floral motifs. Everything seemed to flow as it were alive and meant to be a part of the tree.

The woods were deep but not dark. Hidden lamps spilled a soft white light that turned blue the further away they were from the eye. The silvery bark of the trees shimmered as if iridescent. It was a land of fantasy, but the veneer of innocent childhood dreams was not present. If anything Lana felt like she had stepped back in time to a land where time did not exist. Her heart galloped as her senses hit overdrive.

Citizens of the city peered at them curiously, leaning over balconies and murmuring amongst each other. Some pointed long elegant fingers at the strangers. They were robed in soigné garments that accentuated their height and taste for finery.

At the summit of the tree was a wide space: a sturdy platform adorned with delicately carved wooden panels stood in the place of walls. It surrounded the center body of the tree, with the thinning truck thrusting up through the center. These upper branches were still very thick but gradually grew thinner as they continue to reach up towards the heavens. At the apex of the room—if it could be called a room at all—was a staircase that led up to a massive dwelling structure. If a palace could be built in the trees, it would look like the building in front of them.

A bright star-like light was glowing there, and it seemed to come closer, its light radiating with a mystical quality. Haldir lined the Fellowship up before the stairs and then stood off to the side. Lana found herself standing behind Merry and Pippin and next to Boromir. The man for once was too awed to bother with her.

They all shielded their eyes as the glowing light became brighter, then suddenly it dimmed enough for them to see. All the men were silenced in wonder as a glorious couple descended the stairs towards them. Lana felt her lips part as her jaw dropped in an uncouth manner.

A tall silver adorned elf looked down on them with ageless eyes. His robes made no sound as he moved. His face was youthful, but it was clear he had seen more years than anyone present. He radiated with royal presence, and his aura was only matched by the glorious elf-woman on his arm.

If the man was silver then she was gold. Her white gown glittered as if made of stardust and in her hair was a living golden light. Her countenance was flawless and beautiful beyond description. In her eyes gleamed the light of the heavens. She was immaculate!

Lana for her part felt wholly insignificant by comparison. Were they angels? If ever there was a case for their existence, it would be this couple Lana thought. Unexpectedly she started to tremble. Quickly she ducked her head down lest she lose her composure completely.

All other eyes were upon the couple, though. Aragorn bowed his head and touched forehead in a sign of respect. Frodo, for his part, was staring intently at the elf-woman.

"Nine there are here, yet not all set out from Rivendell," the low resonating cadence of the elven lord's voice washed over them like a wave. "Tell me, where is Gandalf, for I much desire to speak with him. I cannot see him from afar."

Silence.

"He has fallen into shadow," the white lady said in a voice that was achingly lovely.

The surprise in her voice made all the members of the Fellowship fidget and look away. Her consort looked to her in astonishment then dread.

"He was taken by both shadow and flame," Legolas spoke up suddenly. "A balrog of Morgoth." He seemed to spit the words out; the grief in his voice was biting. "For we went needlessly into the net of Moria."

There was anger in his voice too. Lana peeked at him from the side. Legolas was discharging such discontent and sorrow that for a moment she lost her fear of him. How his anguish burned! And her heart sorrowed in tandem his just for an instant.

"Needless were none of Gandalf's deeds in life." The lady admonished gently, and Legolas dropped his head. "We do not know his full purpose."

"What now becomes of this Fellowship? Without Gandalf, hope is lost." The silver elf proclaimed.

The lady looked them over carefully as she spoke her next words. "The quest stands upon the edge of a knife. Stray but a little and it will fail to the ruin of all."

Her eyes rested on Boromir. The man now was visibly shaking far worse than Lana. He dropped the lady's gaze a muted sound of distress in his throat. The lady shifted her glance to Sam.

"Yet hope remains while the company is true."

When her eyes flickered to Lana, the woman felt as if a cold knife pierced her mind. Something was invading her thoughts. The sensation was so bizarre and frightening that Lana flinched. It took all her willpower to not throw her hands up in defense to the alien feeling. Juddering, Lana mentally whimpered.

_What is this?!_

_There is much turmoil within you,_ a foreign voice whispered in her mind. _Have peace young one. Your healing will begin anon._

Slowly Lana looked up and realized that the woman was still speaking to the group at large. Yet, somehow, she could have sworn it was _her_ voice that was in her mind. Confused and more than a little afraid she missed the last words spoken by the lord and lady.

Then the feeling was gone as if it had never been there. Shaken to the core Lana stood frozen feeling half sick with nerves until Haldir moved forward to guide them once more. Numbly she followed the company back down the innumerable steps. At some point, she felt her mind touched again. This time, however, it was not quite so cold.

_You will find what you seek. Rest now, Lana Rey._

They were shown to a place prepared for them at the base of the trees. Tents were set up near a fountain. Suddenly they all felt the weight of their exhaustion. Haldir spoke to them, but Lana's thoughts were drifting.

Then the March Warden touched her arm, causing her to jump. "My apologies, my lady," he said looking at her oddly.

Lana realized that he had finished addressing the group at large. They were settling down now.

"This is Minuiel, she will show you where you can bathe," Haldir said gesturing to an elf-woman who must have been there all along.

Minuiel nodded gracefully to her. Haldir left her in the elf woman's care. She gestured for Lana to follow her. After receiving a nod from Aragorn, Lana left the glade still wearing her backpack.

The bathhouse was deserted when they arrived. Minuiel spoke little of the Common Tongue, but she managed to make herself understood. She pointed out the soaps, drying clothes and then pointed to Lana's clothes and then to a basket.

She indicated to a dress that was neatly folded on a bench then pointed to Lana. Then she left. With a sigh, Lana slowly stripped. The water was surprisingly warm and she hissed as she carefully submerged into the pool. It felt glorious. Naturally heated it seemed to be imbued with something that made her whole body relax.

Taking her time, she did not return to the camp for something close to two hours. She hated feeling dirty and the days of traveling and fighting, and _killing living _things made her feel particularly stained. For a brief moment, she imaged herself as the Lady Macbeth.

_Out damnéd spot!_

She laughed a bit hysterically before breaking down. All the emotions she had tried so hard to withhold came pouring forth. Now that she was utterly alone she let go of everything.

Only after her skin became thoroughly pruned did she rise from the warm bath. Wrapped in a thick cloth, Lana took the time to rifle through her backpack. She had been traveling through the countryside before she arrived in this world, so she was rather well prepared with toiletries.

Forgoing the lotions in the bathhouse, she lathered up in one from home. The familiar scent conjured images like nothing else could. Her hair, now at last clean, was methodically brushed and left to air-dry.

She felt transformed after her bath. The dress left behind for her was of the softest material, but she couldn't be sure what the fabric was. Silk? But it felt softer than that…mohair maybe? She wasn't sure, but the weave was tight and Lana had to wonder at it for surely it was done by hand. The fabric held a faint sheen as she held it up to the light. It was beautiful.

At last, she returned to the camp wearing the luxurious blue-gray dress. All the men gave her a double take as she entered the camp.

"So there _is_ an actual woman beneath all those strange otherworldly clothes," Aragorn said with a teasing grin. "My lady," he sketched a playful bow.

Lana lifted a brow at him, trying to look stern but failed. She tossed her backpack to the tent designated for her use and then plucked a grape from a nearby tray. With alacrity, she threw it at the Ranger playfully. He laughed and ducked the projectile.

The sound of his laughter made her pause inwardly, for she had never heard such a sound from him. It was rich and lovely to hear. She flushed feeling suddenly ridiculous for throwing food. Besides, this was not her brother who she could easily razz.

The light banter did not last long as their weary sorrow took over again. Soft singing filtered down from the canopy above. The music made tears spring to their eyes.

Legolas just then returned with a pitcher of water he had filled from the nearby fountain. He had changed from his travel-stained garb into a silver tunic and gray leggings. And he was devoid of weaponry, which made him look leaner.

He looked distracted as if his mind was absorbed by some inner thought. Lana took the opportunity to study him. During all this madness in conjunction with her fear of him, she had not had the time to stop and really observe him. He was a stunning creature, she mused idly. But then there were several in the Fellowship who could easily rouse a woman's interest. But she had been too busy fighting for her life to notice any of this until now. Cleaned up here in Lothlórien they were truly handsome men.

She pulled her gaze from the elf feeling even further out of place amid all this masculinity. She watched indolently as the hobbits settled themselves in their tents. They had pillows and blankets, full stomachs, and they were clean. The elves had been gracious hosts.

The pervasive singing had continued on and they all listened mesmerized.

"A lament for Gandalf," Legolas said looking up into the tiers above. The sadness in his eyes was hard to bear. Few actually met his eyes now.

"What do they say about him?" Merry inquired softly.

"I do not have the heart to tell you," Legolas answered, slowly turning to the hobbit. "For me, the grief is still too near."

Sam tried his best to make his own tribute to the wizard, extolling his fireworks, but he sank down unable to make his words fitting enough. Lana thought they were lovely, though.

Absentmindedly she stared as Legolas set the pitcher down by the tray of food. She wasn't really looking at him as much as she was lost in thought. He went to his own tent and sat cross-legged on a blanket. He must have felt her eyes upon him because he glanced up at her. Averting her gaze quickly, Lana busied herself with eating the grapes in front of her.

She missed Legolas' frown. The elf felt his heart sink lower still. The woman still appeared to fear him. Though why this bothered him, he could not say. There were other matters that should have weighed more on his heart.

Aragorn stood from where he had been sharpening his sword. Lana watched as he moved over to Boromir. The man sat with his back to the camp. He seemed particularly withdrawn this evening.

"Take some rest," Aragorn said to him. "These borders are well protected."

"I will find no rest here," Boromir replied shortly. Aragorn turned in surprise at the intensity of the man's tone. "I heard _her_ voice inside my head…She spoke of my father and the fall of Gondor. She said to me, 'even now there is hope left.'" Boromir shook his head heavily. "But I cannot see it."

Glancing over his shoulder at the camp, Aragorn's eyes connected with Lana's momentarily. She pulled her gaze away. Then Aragorn lowered himself to the great root on which Boromir sat.

"My father is a noble man," Boromir continued, unaware of Lana's interest. "But his rule is failing and our…our people lose faith." He looked down at his hands. "He looks to me to make things right, and I would do it! I would see the glory of Gondor restored."

Aragorn shifted, a bit uneasy with the conversation.

"Have you ever seen it Aragorn? The white tower of Ecthelion, glimmering like a spike of pearl and silver; its banners caught high in the morning breeze." Boromir's eyes were glazed with fond memory. "Have you ever been called home, to the clear ringing of silver trumpets?" He looked earnestly at the Ranger.

Slowly Aragorn dipped his head in acknowledgment. "I have seen the White City. Long ago."

Boromir smiled and then clapped a friendly hand on his shoulder. "One day our paths will lead us there, and the tower guard shall take up the call that the Lords of Gondor have returned!" He squeezed the man's shoulder.

It was then Boromir caught Lana watching them. Immediately his irritation flared. He had seen her enter the camp looking refreshed and surprisingly fair. It had been all he could do to arrest his eyes from her feminine figure. Even now her eyes seemed to gleam like those damned elves! Witchcraft—he was certain of it now!

This further fueled his anger.

"Do you have no manners?" He snapped at her. "Did no one in your land teach you that eavesdropping is discourteous?"

The woman jolted, surprised by the animosity, then recovered. She was about to reply, but Aragorn stood. "It is late, and we have had a long and hard journey here. Let us all rest and put our hearts and mind at ease."

Boromir frowned. It seemed the Ranger was taking her side again, but he was far too weary to argue. He bid the other man a stiff good night and retired to his tent.

Lana had drawn back at Boromir's words and she now stared down at her hands and fingered the long sleeves of her dress. Aragorn sighed and sat next to her.

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to be rude," she said softly still toying with her sleeves. "It's just…everything I hear is a clue to help me understand this place." She finished with a sigh.

Aragorn nodded and gave her a muted smile. She returned the gesture.

"Fear not. I understand."

He sensed her curiosity bubbling forth and only a few moments later she asked him, "Boromir said 'the Lords of Gondor.' Are you lords then?"

"Boromir is the son of the Steward of Gondor, who rules over the people of Gondor. I am merely a Ranger of the north."

"You humble yourself, Estel."

They turned to see Legolas had risen from his tent and moved to join them. The Ranger shook his head softly. _"Daro_, Legolas."

A look passed between them and the elf nodded in understanding. His heritage was not one to idly discussed, especially in front of a foreigner. Such information could be dangerous if it managed to fall into the wrong ears.

Lana, however, had stiffened defensively. Irrationally she felt that spurt of fear that came whenever an elf approached, and it made her irritated.

"How did you hear us? You were all the way on the other side of the camp." She dared to look into his eyes. "And how is that we can never hear you coming? It's like you don't make a sound at all!"

Legolas smiled. Her crossness amused him slightly. "Elves have superior senses to those of mortals, and we are light on our feet,_ hiril nín."_

_Fantastic_, Lana thought. Super hearing and super sight. _Which means nothing can get past this guy._ He was like some sort of superhero, minus the colorful tights and cape. She half wondered if he had heat vision too! His eyes seemed to burn her after all.

"May I join you?" He inquired politely.

Aragorn nodded genially. "Of course,_ mellon nín."_

As he sat across from them, Lana stiffened further. _And he probably noticed that!_ Feeling very uncomfortable now, she started twirling her loose hair around her finger and kept her eyes on the honey blond strands.

The Ranger and elf were talking about something, but Lana lost track of the conversation. Around and around she spun her hair on her finger. Unable to take it any longer she gave a spurious yawn. She hoped that it wasn't too transparent.

"I…I think I'm going go to bed." She fumbled. Then rising she said, "I'll see you in the morning."

She gave Aragorn a nervous smile, glanced hesitantly at Legolas then beat a hasty retreat to her tent. The two watched her odd behavior until she pulled the sides of her tent down. Aragorn caught the look Legolas gave him.

The elf was frowning openly now. "She fears me."

"Nay, Legolas,"

"Aye," the elf countered sullenly.

Aragorn sighed, not having the strength of will to argue.

"Why, when I have done nothing to harm her?" The frustration was tinged with dejection in the elf's soft tones.

The man rubbed his jaw thinking, then shook his head. "I do not know."

Legolas, still persisting said, "I wish to offer her friendship, but she will not allow it."

The Ranger looked at his friend. Legolas was one who could trust easily once it was earned. Aragorn knew that he enjoyed creating new friendships. For all his heritage, Legolas had an inquisitive mind that had been honed over the last sixty odd years—much to his father's chagrin.

It plain to see that the elf wanted to befriend Lana, but she was proving to be more difficult than Aragorn originally thought she would be. She was an enigma. _In more ways than one_. One thing was certain, though: her unwillingness to trust Legolas hurt the elf.

"Give her time, Legolas," he told him, not knowing what else to say. "She does not know this world; its people, languages, and history are all new for her. She feels confused and alone. I am certain that with time she will come around."

Legolas nodded absently, but something nagged at him like a pesky insect. Why did she fear _him_ and not Gimli or the hobbits? She had clearly stated that she hadn't met either of those races before either.

His chest fell as he exhaled tiredly. His heart ached from the lamentation in the air, the loss of Gandalf, and now Lana's continued panic over him. He was surprised to admit to that he missed Mirkwood. And even his heavy-handed father. He was far from home and now he was part of something so much bigger than himself. He needed to rest both mentally and physically for the journey ahead.

"How long will we stay in Lothlórien?" He asked the Ranger.

Aragorn rubbed the stubble on his jaw, thinking. "Perhaps a month…maybe more." Aragorn replied. "We need rest. Lana needs training and the hobbits could do with more as well. I will speak to Haldir about the matter. Perhaps he will be kind enough to ask the Lord and Lady of the Wood. I do not wish to impose."

Legolas nodded. Aragorn would be a good king one day he noted. His consideration of others was proof of that. They sat in companionable silence for a little while longer then Legolas rose.

_"Maerdû, mellon nín." Good night, my friend._

Aragorn smiled wearily. _"Mae idh."_ Rest well.

* * *

_Are you enjoying the story so far? _

_Thanks for reading!_


	8. Tighten Up

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story. **

I make no claim to Tolkien's works_._ I also give credit to Cormak3032.

I have noticed that at times the uploading feature on this site can be rather squirrelly. If you noticed any strange gaps or what looks like missing bits, typos etc, let me know!

Thank you all who have sent me comments! I'm so thrilled you are enjoying the story.

* * *

**Chapter 7: Tighten Up**

The following morning Lana was awakened by the sound of the hobbits' chatter. Rising she slipped on the elven dress once more and joined the boisterous creatures for breakfast.

Food was yet again the main topic for discussion. She had noticed that hobbits had quite an appetite and if they were not eating they were talking about food. She listened to them go on and on about their favorite breakfast items. One of these was bacon. The word made her mouth water. However fruit, bread and butter were on the menu this morning. She savored the flaky goodness of her pastry wondering if it was truly that good or if her starved body made it so.

Aragorn eventually joined her where she sat. "Tomorrow, I wish to begin your training."

He saw her tense at his words. Her jaw locked, as she seemed to be grinding her teeth. He could also see her heels digging in with stubbornness.

"We need to develop your strength and stamina." He continued, ignoring her standoffish mood. "You will join me for a run every morning before or after breakfast; the choice is yours. And when you have become stronger, we will start more rigorous training."

Lana wrinkled her nose and tried to dissuade him. Although she knew it would be a lost cause.

"Can I choose _not_ to do this?"

"I offer this training for your own good. Not training is _not_ an option. You must do this if you wish to survive."

She sighed, and then gave him an ironic smile. "Yeah, yeah, I know. But you can't blame a girl for tryin'."

He smiled quietly and patted her on the shoulder. At least she had a sense of humor. Although it was quite dry and sarcastic, he would take it over the brooding she seemed to wallow in.

"Strider, there's someone here to see you," Merry said.

The two humans looked over their shoulders to see the formidable Haldir standing by the hobbit. Aragorn rose and greeted the March Warden warmly.

_"Mae govannen, Haldir."_

_"Aníroch peded?"_ Haldir inquired. _You wish to speak?_

Aragorn nodded and put a hand on Haldir's shoulder ready to lead him to a more private location where they could talk. But the elf did not move. He was observing the mortal woman with an interested look.

Aragorn knew that elves were attracted to beautiful things—and though mortal, Lana was not unattractive. There was an exotic look to her for her bone structure and coloring was not like the mortals of the north or west. Fair with richly golden hair she looked to be of Rohan. Yet the shape of her face and eyes were different.

Eyes of deep blue, were cat-like in their shape, and they looked out on the world with intelligence and more than a little distrust. She was slender but more full figured than an elf. Her oval face and dark blue eyes were alluring. It was no wonder that Haldir paused to look at her.

Putting on an enchanting smile, Haldir bowed to her politely and said,_ "Suilad, hiril nín. Pedich i lam edhellen?" Greetings, my lady. Do you speak Elvish?_

Lana blinked.

"Nay she does not speak Elvish, Haldir," Aragorn answered for her.

Haldir dipped his head in acknowledgment. "Forgive me, my lady. As a friend of Aragorn's, I assumed you spoke our tongue. I hope you are feeling as refreshed as you look." He complimented her and perused her with a lingering glance.

Lana did not say a word, but her cheeks started to color.

"Does she know how to speak?" Haldir asked the Ranger with concern.

"Aye, she is choosing not to." He frowned at Lana.

Visibly shaking herself, she found her voice. "I'm sorry…I didn't mean to be rude." She said softly. Strangely she looked away from Haldir's penetrating gaze. "It…uh…it is nice to meet you. Um…excuse me."

She rose and beat a hasty retreat to her tent.

_"Goheno i adaneth, mellon nín,"_ Aragorn said. "She is not herself," he added apologetically. _Forgive the woman, my friend._

Haldir nodded and then followed the man out of the camp.

Lana watched their shadows until they disappeared. Releasing a pent up breath she rubbed both her temples in agitation. She didn't know how much more of this she could take. Her fear was irrational and it made her angry.

She was well traveled and had been in situations that would make any normal person shudder. For goodness sake, she had stood in bombed out buildings while snipers shot at her, held the hand of a boy who died from stepping on a mine, and endured captivity! But a new race of beings that were supposedly "elves" made her shake in her boots? It was preposterous!

Annoyed with herself she pulled her hair back into a tail then rolled up two sides of her tent. Then she occupied herself by going through her bag and taking an inventory.

Aragorn was gone for most of the day. He only returned in time for dinner. He did not say a word to Lana about her behavior that morning, but he watched her covertly as he entered the camp. She was keeping to herself though. Not ready to tackle her issues, he sat himself down next to Legolas.

"How did things go with the Marchwarden?"

"Very well. He spoke to the Lord and Lady and they have graciously granted us all the time we would like here. I believe a month should be sufficient."

Legolas nodded in agreement. "A month is enough time to rest our minds and bodies."

"Aye."

The Ranger began to eat his meal. He looked up at Lana again. She was currently sitting off by herself. She sat with her back against a tree. As he watched her, he saw that she kept glancing up at the fountain then toward a book in her lap. Mentally he shook his head. She was an odd woman.

Swallowing a mouthful of cold cuts he said, "I have learned that it is not you personally that she fears."

Legolas glanced at Aragorn then followed his gaze to the mortal woman. The Ranger then looked at him.

"How do you know this?" Legolas asked, unable to deny his curiosity.

"She shied away from Haldir this morning. You could ask the hobbits and they would tell you the same. I have also noticed that she keeps away from any elves that enter the camp."

Legolas' brows drew together. "She fears my people," he realized aloud. Although this was a terrible thing, it did make him feel somewhat better. It was not _him_ that she feared.

"That is how it appears," Aragorn said.

"Why?" Legolas wondered aloud. He was now more confused than ever by the woman.

"I don't know," Aragorn said softly. His gaze rested on Lana again.

Later that night, Aragorn found her in the small clearing near their camp. She was leaning against a tree staring up to the night sky that appeared through the canopy.

"You should be resting. You have not had enough sleep," he told her.

It was true. There were shadows under her eyes.

"The stars," she said, her gaze still searching the heavens. "They're…they're exactly where they should be..." Confusion and anxiety radiated from her.

"What is it that frightens you?" He asked, ignoring her strange words.

Lana turned to him in muted surprise.

"Something here frightens you. You draw further into yourself. I am beginning to doubt that only your grief causes this."

Lana pursed her lips and looked away.

"You have to trust us _all_ some time." He pushed.

"Look Aragorn, I'm very far from my home, and I'm still struggling to come to terms with that. This is not like being a new country or even just going back in time. (As if that was possible!)" She muttered under her breath. "I'm completely out of my element here…I'm an outsider in every sense of the word." She threw up her hands in frustration.

"But you do not have to be. Why do you persist in this?"

She hugged herself and paced a bit. Stopping she glanced at Aragorn. Her lips were twisted in exasperation.

"I used to be efficient, useful—_capable_." She gestured emphatically with her hands as she talked. "I knew what to do with myself, even in strangest situations. I was a _war_ correspondent for goodness sake! But here…" she seemed to deflate. "Here I am a _burden_. And I hate that. I don't know how to fight or defend myself, let alone others. That was never my job! I'm not warrior. I am not a soldier."

Hearing the words aloud made it all seem so much more real to her now. Of course she had been through conflict zone training, but that was all about how to survive in a disaster situation with guns and IEDs, and what to do if you found yourself shot or kidnapped.

Given all that she had survived before she had firmly believed that she was mentally strong and resilient. Now she wasn't so sure. Jumping realities could do that she mused with ironic humor.

Aragorn put his hand on her shoulder. "We will teach you to fight. Soon I will show you the ways of the blade and Legolas will teach you archery." He noticed how she stiffened at the mention of the elf, but he did not call attention to it. "You will become a skilled fighter in time."

Lana lifted a brow. "I'm not so sure. I'm not very strong—physically speaking."

"You will grow stronger in time, both in body and in mind."

Instructing her to seek rest he left her. The next day would be trying for both of them.

At dawn the following morning Aragorn roused her. She glared at him evilly but silently obeyed his command to get up. Foregoing the dress she slipped into her yoga clothes. The skintight leggings and camisole were probably scandalous in this land, but she didn't give a damn. But in an effort to not be completely disreputable, she also donned a gray long sleeved shirt. Pulling the hood over her head she mentally played the _Rocky_ theme song in her mind. Rolling her eyes at her own ridiculousness she left the tent.

She jogged after Aragorn, following him around Lothlórien. He was difficult to keep up with, and he pushed her hard. In her head she swore repeatedly at him; obscenities resounded with every step. She _loathed_ running. That was what her brother excelled at, but not her. Still she was determined to prove that she wasn't some whiny incompetent woman.

But as time wore on her mental insults grew more colorful. The barrage of words became her mantra. _Fucking bastard._

Aragorn tried to show her how to tread quietly for a human and he watched as she failed miserably. Her panting alone was enough to give her away, let alone her heavy footfalls. Her feet smacked the earth violently. Then she tripped over a root nearly eating dirt. She swore profusely. Mentally he shook his head. He definitely had his work cut for him.

Each morning before breakfast they went running together. And despite Lana declaring vehemently how much she loathed running, she slowly improved. After running, she would bathe, eat a late breakfast and then typically keep to herself. Always in the afternoon she would nap, but if she wasn't doing that she was fiddling around in her bag.

The hobbits and Gimli engaged with her more and more. Slowly she was coming around. It wasn't possible to keep up a wall around the hobbits. They were far too inquisitive. And Gimli was fond of storytelling. Between them they managed to pry some stories from the woman. She was an excellent storyteller.

On top of that they learned that she had many strange and seemingly random facts. For example: she enjoyed food with as much passion as the hobbits; and that she had a dry sarcastic sense of humor that could take paint off a wall. It was taking time but she was opening herself up cautiously to them.

She and Boromir continued to bicker with each other, much to Aragorn's disapproval. Usually, Boromir would make a snide remark or look at her "the wrong way" as she put it. Then she would retort and it would escalate from there. Her wit would cut like a blade as she argued with the man.

However, despite Boromir's vociferous disapproval of her, she was not blind to his looks. She could feel his eyes following her and that aggravated her to no end. She had half a mind to beat the crap out of him just to teach him a lesson. However, she knew that she would definitely lose that battle. He could easily overpower her and she wasn't sure he would hold back in a fight. So she ignored him as much as she could; until she exploded at him in a fiery tirade.

As for Frodo, he tended to keep to himself. He rarely spoke to Lana, and she didn't go out of her way to befriend him either. There was a strange aura around him that she couldn't place. It bothered her, especially when she caught herself watching him for inexplicable reasons.

On one insignificant afternoon only Lana, Gimli, and Legolas were in the camp. The dwarf regularly engaged her in conversation nowadays. Surprisingly to her, he was quite easy to talk to. He had a gruff pragmatism that reminded her of an old Scotsman she knew. Though rough on the edges, he was quick-witted and enjoyed spinning a good yarn.

And as with most dwarves he loved a good story. He was enchanted by the tales of her world and had asked her to tell him more, and always in greater detail. He was particularly interested in the architecture of her world and the material she called "cement." This day, however, she was attempting to explain cars to him. It wasn't going so well.

"Transportation that is run by lightening and machinery; that does not require food or water, and can travel great distances at high speeds with no rest? 'Tis but a fanciful tale that you wave, lassie." He told her with a laugh.

Miffed she by his easy dismissal of her words, Lana glared at him. He could at least have an open mind! Was it too much to ask?

"You don't believe me?" Her tone was hard with disappointment and anger. Annoyed she rose in huff.

Gimli's bushy brows lifted as he suddenly realized that what he said might have been a mistake. "I never said that, lass, I—"

Ignoring him, Lana stormed off. Grabbing her bag and left the camp to seek the solitude of the trees.

Legolas looked up from feathering arrows and gave Gimli a punitive glare. Today had been the first time that the mortal woman had begun to open up while in his presence. He usually kept out of her way and she kept out of his, but today they had tolerated each other's company.

"She is at last beginning to open up to us. And she is attempting to trust us but you may have lost that trust with your foolish words." He told him testily.

"I did not mean to offend her," Gimli groused defensively. "But not even you can deny that her tale is tall."

"Her tales may sound tall, but she comes from a different world. They may yet be true."

The dwarf crossed his arms with a_ hmph!_ "You don't have the right to reprimand me, _elf_; even you don't believe them."

"That is where you are wrong, _dwarf_. I do believe her." Legolas leveled a hard look at him. Then he returned his attention to his arrows.

o0o

Lana sat among the trees for a long while. Her temper burned even though she knew her behavior was uncalled for. She knew it was too much to ask these people to understand. All in all, they listened with rapt interest. But did they actually believe her? Now she wasn't so sure.

How could they believe her? They have no reference point. She had yet to see anything more advanced than a bow and arrow. The things she did speak of must sound like magic to them—even if she explained the science to the best of her ability. Lana sighed. She doubted if any of these people even had a printing press. So how could she possibly expect them to comprehend cars, electricity, or the internet?

So lost in her thoughts she was that she did not hear Gimli coming behind her. "I didn't realize you were so talented, lass."

With startled gasp, she slammed the book in her lap closed. Her cheeks turned pink with mortification.

"There's no need to hide that. You have quite a talent."

"You shouldn't sneak up on people like that, Gimli. You're just as bad as Legolas." She said peevishly.

The dwarf snorted at that and crossed his arms over his broad chest. "Don't start comparing me to the elf. You were lost in thought. I came to apologize for upsetting you. I _do_ believe you, lass. 'Tis difficult to comprehend the wonders of your world; I find such machinery inconceivable."

Lana felt her temper melt away. Perhaps these people were more self-aware than she gave them credit for. "No worries, Gimli," she gave him a lopsided smile. "I guess I'm a bit moody. Sorry for being bitc—uh, snappish."

Mentally she chastised herself for nearly swearing aloud. She had noted the more refined vocabulary of the company and had been trying to curb her sailor's tongue.

"Shall we call it a truce then?" Gimli held out his hand to her.

Grinning softly she took his proffered armistice. "Truce."

Both of them feeling better now, Gimli glanced at her sketchbook curiously. "May I see your work?"

Lana considered his request for a moment. She knew that sooner or later someone was going to catch her doodling. And now she had been caught. Thankfully it was only Gimli.

"Well? Let's see it then," he said gruffly nudging the book.

She hesitated a moment more but then shrugged and handed it to him. Gimli took it and sat on a root next to her. Flipping through the pages he frowned.

"These are people, but I've never seen people like them before. What are they doing?" Gimli tried turning the book another way but it didn't help him understand what he was seeing.

Lana chuckled lightly and righted the book for him.

"They're ice skating." At his bewildered look she elaborated. "Some friends of mine dragged me with them, but I twisted my ankle so I sat out. I sketched the people while I waited for my friends to finish."

"They are walking on ice? Are they elves?" He was thoroughly confused. When Lana shook her head he persisted, "Then how can they walk on the ice without falling through?"

"It's a manmade structure. The ice is only a few inches thick. You can't fall through it."

"Ah," he replied, but clearly he didn't understand.

Flipping the pages he studied her landscape drawings: cityscapes, cars, buildings, and people in various situations. There were also many drawings of animals, some recognizable and others not. Some of them were even in color.

"You draw many things." His eyes were warm as he smiled through his beard.

"I like to sketch," She said nonchalantly.

"It's obvious," he told her with a smile. Turning the next page he grinned with delight. "It's the hobbits! Merry and Pippin—it looks just like their wee selves."

Lana grinned at his enthusiasm.

"And you've drawn Aragorn and Boromir and…_that_," he smiled broadly. "Now that is a very handsome dwarf. Look at that lovely bushy beard and the powerful build."

Lana chuckled at his enthusiasm and he laughed along with her. As Gimli went turn the page she tried to snatch the book out of his hands.

"The rest is largely unfinished," she said, her calm tone betrayed by her sudden dash for the book.

"But I want to see the rest." He moved it out of her reach.

The commotion caught Aragorn's attention who had just returned from training the hobbits. "Are the two of you fighting?" He asked with a frown.

"No, we're not," Lana replied in an even tone that was forced. Curbing her irritation she said, "Gimli, may I please have my sketchbook back?"

"You need to see these, Aragorn," the dwarf said ignoring her. "She is a fine artist. She has drawn portraits of us."

Lana sighed and became increasingly aggravated. Her fingers dug into her hair as she raked it out of her face.

Intrigued Aragorn moved to retrieve the book from the dwarf's hands. He turned the pages of the hardcover leather-bound book, lingering on the drawings of him and his companions. He noted the sketches of Lothlórien, the trees, some of the tents and the fountain he had seen her staring at several days ago. He smiled at her.

"These are very good," He said looking into her eyes.

"Thank you. May I have it back now?" Lana forced a smile, even as her heart rate increased with her sudden anxiety.

"I've not finished seeing the rest," Aragorn protested.

Lana pursed her lips. She felt indecisive. Dare she try and take the book back? It would only make the situation worse she decided, but that did little to abate her disquiet. She began began to twist the ends of her hair around her finger.

"What's going on?" Pippin asked. Merry was by his side and the two were snacking on apples. Lana groaned internally.

"She has drawn your portraits, young hobbits. Come and see them," Gimli announced and he gestured for them to have a look.

Lana made a tight fist around her hair and pulled a little.

Aragorn kneeled down to share the book with the hobbits, starting from the beginning.

"These are wonderful!" Merry told her looking at her drawings of trees and animals.

"Look Merry, she drew us!" Pippin exclaimed as the page with their portraits came into view. He turned the page to look at the drawings of Boromir, Gimli, and Aragorn.

"I haven't really finished the rest. Can I have it back now, please?" She tried again.

Aragorn looked up at her and noticed that she seemed almost panicked by the idea of them turning the page. What was she hiding?

"We don't mind!" Pippin told her happily and turned the page.

Then it was clear to the Ranger why she was so agitated. Over the next two pages were drawings of Legolas. There were only four, but he could tell that she spent a lot of time working on these and far less on the other drawings. There was a profile, two of him standing in the tree line lost in thought, and one of him sitting on a log with a plate of food in front of him.

"Why do you have four drawings of Legolas, and only one of the rest of us?" Pippin asked petulantly.

Legolas who was still making arrows glanced up at the sound of his name. He had been listening to what was going on and had even looked up a few times, but now he stared openly.

Lana felt her cheeks go red. "He's the only one who is still long enough for me to sketch him properly," she mumbled.

Gimli laughed. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say the elf has caught the lassie's eye!" He teased.

Lana's eyes grew wide. "He has _not!_ I told you, he's the only one that sits still!"

She snatched the book from the unsuspecting hobbits and clutched it protectively as she stood over them. Her dark blue eyes grew darker with her embarrassment and irritation.

"Oh come now! I was only teasing you," Gimli told her.

Lana turned her face away, not willing to face any of them at the moment.

"I was jesting!" Gimli tried again. "I did not mean anything by it. Please forgive me, lass."

Lana sighed knowing that she was acting churlish. _Again_. "It—it's alright. I'm still just…moody."

"You should show those to Legolas. I'm sure he'd like to see them." Merry suggested.

She looked down at the rakish hobbit. Her reply was flat as her expression. "No."

"But why not?" Pippin asked bewilderedly.

Lana glanced over to where Legolas was making arrows. She was horrified to see that he was watching them all intently. His eyes met hers causing every hair on her body to stand up. With his super hearing he'd no doubt heard what was going on too. She dropped his gaze and noticed that everyone was staring at her. It felt almost like a dare.

Swallowing she glanced at Legolas again. Forcing herself to hold his gaze for a moment she actually started thinking about bringing him the book. What was she so afraid of anyway? They were just drawings and everyone else liked their portraits.

Gimli gave her a little shove forward. "Go on, lass."

His prompting was like tapping a switch. Instantly she changed her mind. How could she even think of showing her sketchbook to him? It was bad enough that it had been passed around most of the company. It was like her diary! Horrified that she'd even thought about showing it to Legolas, she shook her head resolutely. Then without further ado she snatched up her bag and quickly left the group.

"What was that all about?" Merry asked his brows furrowed in confusion.

Aragorn sighed in consternation. "I do not know, but I intend to find out."

* * *

_Thoughts? Comments? Critiques? As always, many thanks for reading!_


	9. Challenged

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.**

I make no claims on Tolkien's works. I also give credit to Cormak3032.

Again, thank you to each and every one of you who have sent me your reviews! It's like candy for this writer! ;)

I've tried to reply to each of you via the PM feature if it was available.

**Sethiel**:I haven't been on Open Scrolls in so long. I had completely forgotten about that site! I will look into posting there as well.

* * *

**Chapter 8: Challenged**

The following morning, Aragorn took Lana to a small clearing within the woods after their run. Five days into their stay and he deemed it was time to further her training. Time was of the essence.

Lana was apprehensive about it all and she eyed the scabbard he carried dolefully. He presented it to her. "This will be your sword," he said while unsheathing and holding up the gleaming metal blade. "It was forged by the elves and is light and easy to handle."

Sunlight glanced off the wicked edge and Lana felt her heart starting to thump. A familiar panic sank into her gut.

"I don't know about this," her voice was full of uncertainty that held more meaning that Aragorn knew.

"Perhaps we should start with something smaller?" He suggested.

Placing the sword down he unsheathed his dagger. At the sound of the smaller blade leaving its casing, a sharp terror struck her. Lana felt her vision blur slightly and she staggered backwards. She did not hear Aragorn's voice until he was at her side holding her elbow.

"Lana! Are you well?" She was breathing in short gasps, and her face was very pale. "What is wrong?" Aragorn asked hastily. She wouldn't look him in the eye, but her own were dilated.

She blinked several times and he saw that she was trying to control herself. Inhaling deeply several times she began to calm down. But the dread he had seen in her blue eyes lingered there like a shadow.

"I'm, uh…it's nothing. Nothing." She was frazzled and shook her head as if to clear it. Then she straightened up and lifted her chin. "Let's start with the sword."

Aragorn was more than a bit baffled by her behavior. He eyed her skeptically, but she no longer seemed in danger of fainting. Taking the sword, he handed it to her, watching closely lest she grow pale again.

She took it more ease than he would have thought given her previous reaction to the smaller weapon. He watched as she turned the blade over in her hands. The sword was masterfully crafted and, as with all things elvish, it was beautiful.

"The sword is a gift from Haldir," he told her.

Her eyes widened at this and she looked at him in clear surprise. "It's beautiful," she murmured appreciatively.

"He knew that I wished to train you and that you had no weapons of your own. He gave me this sword to give you, and in a few days time you will have your own bow as well."

She shook her head in awe. "This is too much, I couldn't accept it."

"The sword is yours. You will need it. Moreover, it is considered rude to refuse a gift from the elves."

She met his eyes then nodded. "Please be sure to tell him my thanks then."

Aragorn nodded, gratified. "Are you ready to begin?"

Her mouth twisted slightly, but she nodded.

The first lesson consisted of how to properly position her hands on the hilt and basic footwork. He ran her through the beginner sword positions, numbering each one so she could remember them.

He performed each one with her mirroring him. She was quick to learn and made few mistakes, but this was only the beginning. After thirty minutes, he engaged her in a slow attack. Three times he came at her, and three times her sword clattered to the ground.

While she moved into the positions correctly, she lacked the strength and will to engage in the fight. Something was preventing her from doing so.

"I didn't see this reservation in Moria when the orcs were upon us." He quipped as she stooped to pick up the sword yet again.

"Yeah well, that was life or death. And that was not easy for me to do; especially since I've never killed before."

She was looking defeated. Deciding that they both had enough today, he called it quits. Her homework was to practice the forms he had taught her.

Over the next three days, her performance was mediocre at best. Her wind was improving on their runs, but she seemed disinclined to take her swordsmanship seriously. It was the same problem as always; something was holding her back.

"Pretend that I am an orc," he told her.

She lifted her brow and said rather peevishly, "I'd rather not."

Suppressing the urge to clout her over the head he took a deep breath. "If I were an orc and I came at you would you drop your sword?" He asked in clipped tones.

"If I could drop it, high tail it and live, you bet your bottom dollar that I would," she replied dryly.

"This is unacceptable, Lana! You cannot run and hide. You must face your enemy and slay him."

She made a face. "Maybe I'm not cut out for this," then she wrinkled her nose at the terrible pun. "Besides, I'm a pacifist by nature."

"Pick up the sword and perform the block that I have shown you."

Lana exhaled and grumbled under breath.

"I could have Boromir teach you if you would prefer." He threatened.

"No!" She practically yelped.

"Then give this a bit more effort."

He charged her when she didn't expect him and he was pleased to see her fall into the proper defensive position. And, she didn't drop her sword. Her eyes were wide with shock, but if it was due to her success or his sudden attack he couldn't be sure. But he would take it either way.

"Very good! Now again!"

After that praise, it appeared that Lana was now more invested in her practice. The sound of swords clashing filled the quiet forest with Lana at last growing in confidence. She was finally doing something right.

Aragorn continued to play the aggressor and he was pleased to feel some strength behind her blocks. He then switched it up and had her attack him.

She was surprisingly light on her feet, he noted. And she moved with the grace of a dancer. Still, more practice was needed before she would be a worthy opponent, but he could see her potential.

"At last! You are doing well," he teased lightly, but he was truthful with her. "Are you certain you do not wish to try the dagger? It certainly has its advantages."

She shook her head firmly. "No thank you. I just want to focus on sword work for now."

"Very well, but it is something you will need to learn," he told her after drinking some water. "We have done enough for today," he said. "You may go."

She nodded gratefully. With a small smile, she bid him farewell.

"How goes her training?"

Aragorn turned to see Legolas standing only a couple of meters from him. The elf had his quiver slung over his shoulder while he held his bow in hand. He had just come from the practice fields himself.

Sheathing his sword Aragorn replied. "Very slowly, but she is finally improving. She is as stubborn as a mule and needs to be pushed. But she is growing more confident with each lesson." He gathered up his gear. "I have attempted to teach her how to wield a dagger but she seems to have a fear of them."

"She fears them?" Legolas tilted his head slightly.

"Aye. I thought that perhaps a dagger would be easier for her to start with than a sword. Yet a few days ago when I removed mine for her to use and she reacted strangely. She panicked and nearly swooned. It was quite unexpected. "

"Peculiar. She did not have this reaction with the sword?" Aragorn shook his head. Legolas frowned, puzzled. "Did she explain why she reacted in that way?"

"Nay. She dismissed it and refuses to discuss the matter."

"Intriguing,"

"Indeed. Still, she is doing better with the sword. I believe if I push her more, she will improve further still. She is quick on her feet."

"When do you wish for me to train her with the bow?"

"Soon but not yet. I will inform you."

Legolas nodded. "Have you eaten, _mellon nín?"_

"Nay."

"Then let us break our fast."

o0o

Lana was about ready to punch Boromir in the face. She had returned to the camp to eat before bathing. Merry and Pippin were their usual selves and greeted her warmly. She had felt Boromir's gaze upon her as she sat down next to the hobbits.

It was then that the ever-curious Pippin caught sight of one of her tattoos on her right wrist.

"What's that?" He had asked.

She explained that it was a tattoo. This, of course, brought up a whole discussion of how did one get a tattoo, did it hurt, and so on.

"I don't understand what it says," Merry said holding her wrist and trying to read the letters.

She smiled bemusedly. "That's because it's in Latin."

"Latin?" He gave her a baffled look.

"An ancient language from my home. Here," she turned her wrist so he could read the word the right way around.

_Invictus_. It was tattooed all in lowercase letters in typewriter font.

"It means 'undefeated.'"

She told them that it was based on a poem, but that it also summed up how she strove to live her life. It was at this moment that Boromir had made a snide noise. She glanced up at the man.

"What?"

"The idea that you think yourself 'undefeated' is laughable. You wouldn't be alive now if it were not for us."

"True, but victory can be obtained many ways. Not all of us charge blindly into disaster. Some of us actually think our actions through."

"_Think?_ You seem to hardly possess a logical thought in that head of yours. You are ruled by your fears. You have no place here among us."

Lana bristled with his every word. Yet she said nothing. She didn't want to be drawn into another argument, but Boromir continued to taunt her.

"You may carry that sword around, but you don't know how to wield it,"

"That's why I'm training, you idiot." She snapped back, unable to help herself.

At this point, Aragorn and Legolas appeared from the direction of the training field.

"You are weak. You will never survive—" Boromir goaded.

Lana surged to her feet ready to throw a punch.

"Enough of this! Both of you!" Aragorn barked.

He stepped between Lana and Boromir.

"He started it!" Lana declared childishly. "He's the one who has been acting like a misogynistic pig!"

"I have little interest in who started it," Aragorn barked angrily. "You are both continuing it. Eat your food and keep quiet!"

Lana stared at the Ranger in surprise. Hurt and then shame filled her heart. Having nothing to say she stormed off for the bathhouse.

Gimli made to rise and go after her, but Aragorn forestalled him.

"Let her go," he ordered. "Give her time to think. And you—" he turned a steely gaze on Boromir. The man's smugness wilted under the look, only to be replaced by defensiveness. "You will leave her be. Training her is difficult enough without you getting involved."

Piqued Boromir retorted, "She is going to be the death of us all. Can none of you see that?"

"Give her time, lad. She will be such a fine warrior that none will believe she had never held a sword before." Gimli said. "Aragorn is a brilliant teacher."

Boromir glanced in the direction Lana had taken. "Regardless of who trains her, she is a woman and has no place among us."

"Master Gimli is correct. Lana will be an acceptable warrior by the time we leave Lothlórien. She shows improvements daily. Yes, she has fears and uncertainties, but I have no doubt that she will overcome them. And when she does," Aragorn looked pointedly at the other man. "She will be a worthy opponent."

Not about to give in Boromir remarked, "And how do you know this? Does the mighty Aragorn have the gift of foresight? Am I the only one who sees that she is nothing more than a scared child?"

"Frightened, aye, but not a child. Gandalf believed in her. And so must we." He replied firmly.

Boromir had no reply to that and the conversation ended.

The following morning run between Aragorn and Lana was unduly silent. Having been too upset and humiliated, she had not joined the Fellowship for dinner that night. She had chosen to keep her distance, shunning all companionship.

Instead, she had spent a lot of time in thought. She knew her behavior was uncalled for. Typically she was level headed, but Boromir managed to goad her every time. It was like he had the worst aspects of her brother and every self-important pig she had come across back home—and it made her peevish. It just wasn't in her to be demure and take such insults sitting down.

She had met plenty of chauvinistic morons from all around her world. But due to the often delicate nature of her job she had to swallow her pride and endure the criticisms and slanderous jibs.

Here, for whatever reason, she felt she had to fight back. Perhaps she was desperate to change his opinion of her, or maybe she just wanted to prove a point. Or perhaps since she wasn't physically capable she sought to fight with her sharp mind and tongue. Regardless, it was not becoming a woman of her age or experience to act out like she had been doing.

When they made it to the clearing where they practiced daily Lana, at last, broke the tense silence.

"Aragorn? I want to apologize about yesterday. Boromir just gets under my skin every time. I'm sorry I've not been handling it better." She forced herself to hold his gaze.

"I know this. He has become increasingly agitated while in Lórien. I know not what plagues him, but he seems intent on taking it out on you." He shook his head softly. "It is not right, but I have spoken to him about this. But for now, you should both just keep away from each other."

"Oh, believe me, I intend to," she said sourly.

Seeing her spirited sarcasm return, he smiled. At least she wasn't one to hold a grudge.

"Good," he gestured for her to draw her sword. "Now show me an attack."

She pulled out the blade and it hissed satisfyingly. Recalling each movement she played them out in a secret rhythm in her head. In addition sorting out her anger against Boromir, trying to remember the moments before she woke in Moria, and why she was here at all, Lana had also spent her time choreographing a sword patterns in the hope that she would throw Aragorn off.

Her movements were still slower than the Ranger would have liked, but she wasn't losing her grip on the sword as much. At last, she was making great strides instead of small steps in her training. He was pleased but pushed her harder. Time was short, and he wanted her prepared.

Lana was determined to not let Aragorn beat her quite so soundly today. Drawing on her dormant talent as a dancer and applying them to the techniques the Ranger had been drilling into her, she managed to end their duel with a draw. Although she had a sneaking suspicion that Aragorn allowed it.

For his part, Aragorn was impressed. "Very good!" He said, sheathing his sword. "You have done very well today."

"Only 'very well'? Not spectacularly?" She mock pouted, but secretly she was glowing with his praise.

Aragorn laughed at her antics. "You are not ready to fight on the battlefield, but your technique is much improved. We will continue practicing until you have mastered the sword."

It was Lana's turn to laugh. "That could take _years_."

"We do not have years. We have less than four weeks." He told her in a serious tone.

Her laughter died immediately. "Less a month?" She said incredulously. "You've got to be joking. I can't master the sword in _one_ month!"

"I jest you not. You must learn these skills quickly or you could be injured or killed. We cannot always be here to protect you." He could see the doubt in her eyes, but ignored it, choosing instead to bolster her confidence. "You and I will continue to practice every day, and after lunch, you will begin your archery lessons with Legolas."

She wrinkled her nose. "Can't I just stick with the sword?" She then rubbed her nose in agitation.

"Arrows enable you to kill from a distance. Orcs are strong and you do not have the strength or stamina to fight them hand-to-hand for long. You will need to master the bow as well. It will be an invaluable weapon for you. "

"Can't _you_ teach me the bow? You're skilled with it too."

"Legolas is far superior to me in archery. You could not ask for a better teacher." He admonished. "He will teach you."

"But I don't think—"

"You must get over your fear of him! He is not going to hurt you!" Aragorn snapped at her. Lana drew back at his tone. With a sigh, he ran a hand through his sweat-dampened hair. "Why are you frightened of him?" He asked, trying a new tactic.

Lana glanced down. "I…I don't know. It's not just him, though—it's _all_ of them."

"The elves will not harm you. They are our allies." He remarked, grabbing for all his patience.

She grumbled. "I know, I know…" She didn't look at him but ran a hand through the hair that fell out of her ponytail.

Forcing away his impatience he approached her and took her agitated hands in his. "What is it about Legolas that troubles you so?"

She hesitated as if unable to put her fears into words. "He makes me feel uncomfortable," she started.

_The way he looks at me…It's those damn eyes of his! It's like he can see everything._ Her thoughts made her unfounded fears return to the forefront of her mind, both irritating her and making her tense. The muscles in her neck and shoulders locked up even as she willed them otherwise.

"What about him makes you feel this way?" Aragorn prodded.

"The way he can handle a bow and arrows is inhuman. He never misses his target. He's perfection in solid form and I've never met anyone like that before. Everything he does is flawless, just like him. It's…" She shook her head helplessly. Lana really couldn't put into words why she feared elves. She just did.

"He is an elf. They excel at all they do. It is their nature. You are not the first to feel uncomfortable or intimidated by them."

Lana sighed and paced a little. "I just don't know how to deal with a group of people who are perfect because we humans are _far_ from perfect." She paused then looked at Aragorn keenly. "Why aren't you uncomfortable around them? I see that Boromir is…and Gimli too for that matter."

"I was raised by the elves. I understand them and their ways very well. Boromir was born and raised in Gondor and, therefore, had few dealings with them. As for Gimli, there is a long history of animosity between elves and dwarves."

Lana listened, her curiosity piqued. "You were raised by elves? Well, that explains why you speak like a native." She regarded him with keen interest. "How did you come to live them?"

Memories haunted the man's gaze, making Lana wonder just how old he really was. He looked no older than forty, perhaps forty-five. Yet as she thought about it, she really didn't know that much about him.

"When my father died, my mother brought me to Lord Elrond of Rivendell to keep me safe. She passed away sometime after that."

Surprised Lana didn't know what to say. Her compassion stirred and she pressed a hand to his arm. "I am sorry."

Aragorn glanced down at her hand then into her sincere face. "It was long ago." He was lost in thought for a moment then continued. "You have no reason to fear the elves, especially not Legolas. While it is regrettable that you are uncomfortable around him and his people, you must learn to overcome that fear. He is a traveling companion on this quest and he can teach you valuable skills that can save your life or the life of another."

Taking the hand that she had retracted into his, he peered earnestly into her uncertain eyes. "Will you not try to bury that fear and learn from him?"

Lana wrinkled her nose in her habitual manner of when she didn't like something, but Aragorn gave her a brotherly look that was actually quite persuasive.

"Fine! Damn your eyes," She huffed out dramatically. Then she gave him a sidelong smile. "I'll try."

A chuckle escaped his throat. He squeezed her hand genially. "Good. You will begin training with him today."

With that, he dropped her hand and quickly left her alone before she could react. Once he was far enough away he burst out laughing. The look on her face had been priceless.

o0o

Lana was fuming and already plotting how she could get Aragorn back. That was a nasty trick! The familiar need to seek sibling revenge infused her thoughts. _Bastard!_ He was going to get it later; she wasn't sure how, but she would. Payback was sweet.

Then all of a sudden her nerves squeezed. She was going to have to be around that _elf!_ Feeling unduly panicked she tried every calming technique she knew. She forced her breathing to slow, but that just made her dizzy. She stretched a bit, but her muscles were too tight. She tried imaging Legolas naked and that backfired completely. _That only works for public speaking stupid!_ It was entirely useless. Her stomach grumbled anxiously.

She was due to meet Legolas on the same practice field she and Aragorn used. Every fiber of her being was protesting, but she had agreed to go through with this and she would. Never let it be said that she was an outright coward! Steeling her nerves she was determined to get it over with.

"Ah, you have made it."

Lana's heart jumped into her throat. Whipping around she saw Legolas standing just a few feet behind her. Time must have slipped past her for she had not realized that it was gone. How long had she been standing in this clearing? Had he _seen_ her freaking out?

Glancing nervously at Legolas she tried to compose her nerves. She had not heard him approach at all, which reminded her of all the differences between herself and elves. He looked as he always did: tall, lithe, and formidable. _Perfection_…

"Haldir has not brought your bow, so I have borrowed a training bow for you." Legolas moved to hand it to her but frowned slightly as she drew back from him.

"I…I'm not so sure about this. I don't think I can do it." She told him tautly. The words weren't necessarily true. She believed that she couldn't do this with _him_.

"You must learn these skills. With practice, you will become proficient." He offered her the bow again.

This time, she took it but immediately she recoiled her hand, bringing it to her chest. She looked down at the weapon so she didn't have to look him in the eyes. Her bow was simple but elegant, however sneaking a peek Legolas' bow she saw that his was gorgeous.

Her eyes were drawn to it as he pulled it out. The dark wood was inlaid with golden designs. Catching her watching his hands he waited for her to speak, for she surely would. He could see the words swirling just beyond her lips.

"Yours is beautiful," she told him hesitantly. "Where did you get it?"

Pleased that she was trying to be civil, he smiled. "I made it when I was only a youth."

Her eyes grew wide. "You _made_ it?"

"Aye. There was a yew tree in the forest that I always loved to climb. The tree yielded a branch for me and I carved it and made this bow. While it is not the first I ever used, it is certainly my favorite."

She nodded in awe, but Legolas could still see the fear lurking in her deep blue eyes. It troubled him, but he hoped the upcoming lessons would ease her fears.

"Come, I will demonstrate the correct way to hold it." He showed her what to do, first exhibiting with his own bow. He made certain she was paying attention. "You pull back on the string thusly," he said drawing back on his string sans arrow.

Looking at her then, he gestured for her to try. Her throat moved as she swallowed, but she mimicked him. He stepped up to her and began adjusting her posture. She physically jumped as if his touch burned.

"My apologies. I didn't mean to startle you," he retreated a step, holding his hands up. "May I correct your posture, _hiril nín?"_

After glancing at him for a beat she nodded before she could change her mind. As he adjusted her stance he explained why as he did so.

"Your stance must be solid, otherwise your shots will all go wild. But do not be rigid. You must be like a tree—sturdy and strong, but able to bend." Once satisfied that she held the correct pose, he had her draw back on the string. "It should feel as natural as combing your hair," he told her.

Lana grimaced. This felt ridiculous. She _looked_ ridiculous! Her arms trembled slightly for the bowstring was tight. She did not have the upper body strength to hold the position for long. And her muscles were already tired from sword fighting with Aragorn. They were protesting loudly now.

The string rolled out of her fingers, humming with low vibration.

"Again," Legolas commanded softly. He had her repeat this multiple times until he felt certain she had the feel of it in her muscles. _"Maer_. Now I will show you how to place an arrow on the string."

Using his bow once more, he drew an arrow with purposeful exaggeration. He moved deliberately so she could see exactly what he was doing. Placing the arrow on the string he drew back and then released. The arrow shot forward and hit the tree stump on the far end of the field.

"Damn," Lana murmured. His accuracy was incredible.

"Now you will try," he said pulling another arrow from his quiver.

Lana shrank back. "I…I don't know if I can," she mumbled, her nervousness returning.

"I assure you that you can try. It will take much practice, but I am a good teacher, and you will succeed in time."

Lana arched a brow at that. _Maybe he isn't as perfect as I thought._ _He's certainly got that typical male bravado._ Sighing through her nose, she took the arrow and attempted to load it on the string in the way Legolas had demonstrated.

He nodded circling her, adjusting her arms slightly. She was shaking quite a bit which caused him to frown.

"Are you well,_ mellon nín?"_

"What…what does that mean? Mel…melon neen," she attempted, trying to keep her mind off the fact that she was feeling incredibly exposed.

_"Mel-lon nín,"_ He pronounced slowly for her. "It means, 'my friend.'" She glanced at him oddly. He could see her mind working and wondered where her thoughts lie. Shoving aside his curiosity he focused on the lesson. "Come. Draw the arrow back."

Lifting her arms she started to draw back, but her fingers slipped and the arrow darted forward only to tumble gracelessly in front of them. Her face flushed.

"It is no matter. Try again." He handed her another arrow. "You must put the arrow between your first two fingers, and pull it back on the string with the first three." He showed her again with his own bow. "This will give you more control. Now pull back with your shoulder, not your arm. This will give you more strength as well as control."

Lana tried to focus on the instructions and block out her uneasiness. Lifting the bow again, she followed through with his steps. The arrow fell out of her hands more than once. Sometimes she pulled back too hard and other times not hard enough. Whatever the case, her irritation grew with each failed attempt.

_This sucks. The sword is better._

Legolas watched her struggle a bit before asking, "Would you allow me to help you?"

Glancing at him, she realized that he was asking her permission instead of just reaching out and positioning her. Swallowing she nodded slowly.

Very gently, Legolas positioned the arrow in her hand, his fingers manipulating hers into the correct formation.

"It feels awkward this way; two fingers are more comfortable," she said, hating how squeaky her voice sounded.

"Three fingers will give you the control you are lacking in addition to strength when drawing back the string. You will grow accustomed to the feel. Soon it will not be uncomfortable." Legolas replied intractably.

Gritting her teeth, Lana willed her temper to stay in check. She kept three fingers on the string, fell into the proper stance and glanced sideways at him. He nodded in approval.

"Good, now relax and close your eyes."

She blinked at him. "Whoa—What? How the hell am I supposed to hit anything—let alone that target—if I can't see where I am aiming?" She immediately fell out of the stance and threw a hand up in exasperation.

"At present, hitting the target does not concern me." He looked down his nose at her. "You must learn to properly hold the bow and release the arrow. You are tense and, therefore, your posture becomes wrong."

"You're too close to me. I need some space," she argued in her defense.

Legolas didn't oblige her, much to her frustration. If anything, he moved closer and shadowed her body with his. His hands covered hers pulling her arms up into the correct posture. His hands covered hers making them hold the proper form.

She could feel his breath on her neck, the warmth of his body against her back. He was strong—solid. The heat from his body felt like it was burning into her back. She could smell him clearly—a forest-like smell mixed with oiled leather, tangy sweat, and something else she couldn't place.

Feeling his body around hers made her want to bolt, but like a prey animal caught within a predator's stare she was frozen. She held her breath trying to calm her racing heart. His proximity was unnerving.

When he spoke, his lips were by her ear. "If the enemy was around you, you could not tell him that he was too close." His voice was low and deadly. "He would kill you without a second thought. You must learn to eliminate distractions. Relax and feel at one with the bow."

Hearing his last words broke some of her tension as she heard another mentor's voice from popular culture. Her sarcasm peaked again in defense. Snorting acerbically she said, "Ok, _Obi-wan;_ the Force be with you too."

Legolas gritted his teeth, the muscles in his jaw jumping from the pressure. He did not know what she was talking about, but he could tell from the tone of her voice that she was not being serious. Ignoring her mockery he persisted.

"Close your eyes," he ordered. She made to protest, but he forestalled her. "Trust me," he whispered.

She turned her head and glanced sideways up at him. He could see the underlying fear that she hid beneath a thick veneer of stubbornness.

Lana stared back, transfixed by the light blue of his eyes. Oddly she felt as if she was standing next to a being of far more experience and age than his physic suggested. She blinked severing the spell.

_Could_ she trust him? She was still uneasy around him—more than uneasy, in fact; but she didn't hate him. He had never done anything to harm intentionally. And let's not forget that he had saved her multiple times in Moria, she reminded herself.

She glanced at his hand that covered hers, holding the bow. His body was around hers almost like a shield as he helped her hold the position. She realized that if she dug her heels in he would not move. He was intending to teach her lesson and would wait her out.

Legolas waited. Finally, the tension ebbed from her body and she closed her eyes.

"Release the arrow."

She did and she heard it strike something. Opening her eyes, she saw the arrow was buried in the center of the tree stump target.

"That was a good shot." He commended stepping back.

Unable to help herself she grinned. "Yes, but you set it up for me." Turning to him she asked almost shyly, "Can I try again? On my own?"

He nodded, pleased that she was now interested. She set up the bow herself and closed her eyes, then fired. The arrow made no sound except for the _whirr_ as it sped through the air. Opening her eyes, she looked at the target. Only the two arrows from earlier could be seen.

"Where did it go?"

"On the ground in front of you. You were too quick and you tried to hard to aim. You must relax and take your time."

"Well, I won't be able to relax if I'm in the middle of a fight," she grumbled, instantly frustrated with herself, but taking it out on him.

"True, but you have time to learn the skill. You needn't worry about battles now. Master this slower pace before going faster. Straighten your back and put your feet a little closer together. They are too far apart."

Of course, his words made sense. But she wanted to get proficient quickly so these lessons could end. Annoyed with how her temper seemed to get away from her, Lana set her jaw and did as he instructed.

"Try another arrow."

She did and this one also did not hit the target. It skidded on the grass and fell to the ground a mere five feet in front of her. She lowered her bow with a frustrated exhalation.

"What am I doing wrong now?"

"You are holding the arrow to the string with two fingers instead of three. And you are trying to hard. Relax and become one with the bow." He stated calmly.

She tried two more times with the same result. The arrows didn't go anywhere near the target.

"Fuck this! I suck," She growled under her breath. Her patience was evaporating like water in a desert. "Big fucking fail." She tossed the loose hair from her eyes.

"Nay. Let us go back to the beginning. I want you to draw back on the string, but do not release it—remember, it should feel as natural as combing your hair."

Not liking this one bit, she lifted the bow again. She wished she were clashing swords with Aragorn instead of this. It was too much to ask for her to become proficient at two weapons at the same time! Besides, Legolas was an absolute pro at archery while she was a complete novice. Setting aside all her other anxieties about elves, it was actually quite intimidating watching him demonstrate his craft.

Didn't he realize how difficult this was for her? _Maybe he does. Maybe this is payback for me acting like a bitch him._ It was food for thought—but later. Now she had to get through this lesson. Falling into position, she lifted a brow and glanced at him, waiting.

"Look at your fingers on the arrow. Do you notice anything?"

"You mean other than the fact that they are shaking?" She spat.

"Aye."

"No," she said crossly.

"You are holding the string again with two fingers."

Whirling on him she said, "I told you that it's more comfortable for me to hold it with two! The third gets in the way, and the string is cutting into my finger."

"Two is incorrect and that is why you are having no control over your arrows. Three fingers." He told her evenly.

Lana ground her teeth but corrected her fingers.

"Good. Now I want you to shoot the arrow. Keep your eyes open this time, and hold the arrow with three fingers—but do not aim."

Her lips thinned, but she did as he told her. Releasing the arrow she watched it dodge through the air and land with a muted thud on the grass. She released a frustrated sigh.

"I'm getting nowhere."

"You cannot expect to move mountains overnight. You are tense and you aimed," he accused.

She spun around to face him. "No, I didn't!"

He gazed at her evenly for a moment. "You did."

"And how would you _know?"_ She challenged churlishly.

Her eyes flashed brightly as her brows lowered over her narrowed gaze. Her chest rose and fell in agitated breaths. It appeared she stood poised for a fight. The deep blue of her gaze was bright as if the glowing hot center of a flame. For once her gaze did not waver or hold a hint of fearful hesitation.

The force of it was, to be honest, incredible. Yet, Legolas held her gaze steadily.

_Gerich fäer vara, _he thought to himself. A fiery spirit that would no doubt aid her in the months to come, if she could learn to harness her emotions. _You have a fiery spirit._

Observing her, he knew that she was not going to make things easy on him. Aragorn had warned him, but it was another thing entirely to be confronted with her stubbornness. He watched as she put a hand on her hip, clearly waiting in annoyance for his response.

"I know by the path your arrow took through the air, and by the way you clenched your jaw before releasing the string," he told her.

Her eyes brows rose, then she narrowed her eyes again. He was a perceptive bastard, she would give him that much.

Legolas knew that he had gained the upper hand of the conversation, but his intention was not to have a battle of wits with her. "Try again. Relax and do not aim."

She looked at him crossly but knew she was getting nowhere with her immature behavior. She was far too old to be acting like this anyway._ First Boromir, now him. I just can't hold it together, can I?_ Forcing herself to calm down she looked away and inhaled deeply.

Legolas waited tolerantly, watching as she slowly let her temper go and got into position. Her back was straight; her feet were the right distance apart and she held the arrow to the string with three fingers.

When she released the arrow it flew straight and struck the very outer edge of the tree stump target. It was nearly a miss, but the arrow stuck, its tail still wiggling from the impact. She blinked and made a noise of disbelief.

"Good. We will stop for today and resume tomorrow." He said, gathering up his arrows. "Rest. I am certain you will be sore in the morning."

She glanced at him as if she was about to say something, but closed her lips and turned slowly away. Once she glanced behind her as if uncertain of something, but she disappeared down the track.

o0o

The following day she was indeed sore. Her entire body ached. It felt like she had been beaten with a two-by-four. She was surprised to _not_ see bruises everywhere. She ran slowly even though Aragorn coerced her to pick up the pace.

She wanted so badly to skip her sword lesson but knew that she couldn't. And that she shouldn't. However, Aragorn had no pity for her. She would have to learn to fight when she wasn't feeling well or hadn't had enough rest. Life's battles didn't wait for you to feel your best. This much she did know: all too well in fact. She pushed old memories to the very back corner of her mind and closed the door firmly.

_Not now._

Aragorn drove her hard, but he was pleased with her growing progress. She wasn't dropping her sword as much and she was moving faster and with more confidence. There was strength in both her attacks and blocks. As she worked through the pain her muscles gradually began loosened up.

Narrowing her eyes, she felt a flare of rivalry kindle in her heart. Smirking she employed some footwork that she adapted from salsa dancing, hoping to throw him off. She refused to let Aragorn get the upper hand.

Her odd movement indeed momentarily distracted the Ranger. But years of surviving battles meant that there was little that could throw him off. He answered her smirk with one of his own. There were makings of a warrior awakening within her. Aragorn could see it.

Perhaps her greatest asset was her cleverness. What she lacked in strength and size she made up for in agility and creativity. She was quick too, at least until her stamina ran out. But she had yet to disarm him.

Lessons with Legolas in the afternoon were tense once more, and they continued to be the same for the next four days. Her heart would speed up the moment she set eyes on the elf. And instead of concentrating on the lessons she found herself hyper-aware of where he was at any given moment. The feel of his gaze made her skin tingle uncomfortably. It felt like ants crawling on all over her and she unconsciously developed a habit of scratching her skin to try and relieve the itch.

His voice gave her uncomfortable shivers. It was melodic and fair but entirely masculine at the same time. It wasn't a deep voice but it was rich in timbre. Every word was spoken with care it seemed. Whenever he was near, her ears were instantly attuned to him; waiting for him to speak. If she wasn't so damn apprehensive around him she might have suspected she had other feelings for him.

And Lana was sick of it all. If she didn't find a way to overcome her anxiety she was going to go insane. It affected her lessons, it affected her moods, and it affected her everyday thoughts. Damn it all if wasn't affecting even her dreams! She would lie in her tent for hours at night and wonder why she feared the elf so much. She didn't have any reservations about Gimli or the hobbits…just the elves.

It was like they tipped something off in her brain causing warning bells to blare loudly. Though warning of what she could not say. She was a journalist and was naturally curious about other cultures, so her behavior made no sense to her. It was like they were aliens or something. There were many similarities she could list between humans and elves. But no matter how much she reasoned with herself she continued to be absurdly tense around Legolas and his people. And her insecurity made her tetchy.

Today she had been a complete nervous wreck during her archery lesson. Legolas had been nothing but kind and patient. He put up with her moods like a saint while she remained uptight and testy. Staring at the shadows on her tent she released a heavy sigh tainted with a groan.

Aragorn had told her there was nothing to fear and after dealing with Legolas the past few days, it was obvious that he was correct. It was foolish for her to be so skittish around someone who wasn't going to harm her. And she determined that Legolas could never harm anyone, provided they weren't an enemy. It wasn't in his nature she concluded. In fact, she glimpsed curiosity in his eyes when he thought she wasn't looking.

Rolling over in her tent she exhaled deeply. She promised herself that she would make an effort to get past her fears and put all of this behind her.

Besides, her very survival could depend on it.

* * *

_Thank you for reading! As always your thoughts are welcome._


	10. Black Keys and Fading Fears

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.**

I make no claims on Tolkien's works. I also give credit to Cormak3032.

I'd like to dedicate this chapter to all you wonderful readers (and the Black Keys). ;)

As always thanks for reading!

* * *

**Chapter 9: Black Keys and Fading Fears**

Lana fought to keep herself from growing distracted during her lesson with Aragorn. Her thoughts kept bouncing between her promise to herself from the night before, to home and wondering what her family was doing, and then to her job, before leaping back to Boromir's latest taunt. She couldn't afford the distractions as Aragorn's sword swung at her. Mentally she shoved it all away and forced herself to concentrate on defeating the Ranger at his own game.

As usual, he pushed her hard. He expected great things from her and wouldn't give her an inch. When he did not receive her full attention he would bring his sword in close to her neck or exposed middle. He ran her through her paces until he was satisfied.

She could barely call herself an expert, but wielding her sword was starting to feel somewhat natural. No longer did she hesitate, and she executed her strikes with intention. Her blocks were not very strong and more often than not Aragorn threw his weight against her. He reasoned that her opponents would do the same. Orcs didn't fight fair, he told her every day. It was up to her to use her strengths against them.

Her lesson with Legolas was cancelled for that day as the elf was off with his own people. Oddly enough, she felt rather shoved aside, which was of course unreasonable. Legolas was among his kinfolk and given how she felt around him, these new feelings made no sense. Not understanding herself at all she decided to take a long bath and then spend the rest of the day sketching. After all, she didn't get days off here.

Though winter encroached on the lands beyond the wood, in Lothlórien the weather was fair and balmy. This afternoon was pleasantly warm and sunny—a perfect day to relax and catnap. Before long she had dozed off, she was both mentally and physically drained.

"What's on her face?"

Lana bolted straight up at the exclamation, her deep breathing cut short. "Hmm-huh?"

Merry and Pippin were crouched beside her and they looked completely mystified and not a little startled. They both jumped back at her abrupt movement and stared at her wide-eyed, but they quickly recovered from their fright.

"Can you see out of those?" Pippin asked curiously.

Blinking she looked at them oddly until she realized she had fallen asleep with her sunglasses on. Lowering them with one hand she smirked at them.

"Of course. They're sunglasses. They'd be pretty useless if you couldn't see through them." She yawned.

"Sun-glasses?" Merry asked scratching his head.

"Yeah; they're similar to regular glasses that you would use to read."

At their baffled expressions she reiterated. "Like spectacles? You do have those don't you?"

"Oh yes," Pippin said in sudden comprehension. "Old Farmer Maggot had a pair I think. Didn't he, Merry?"

"Of course! I remember now. He did."

Pippin glanced at the sunglasses again which she now folded and put into their case. "Can you really look at the sun with those on?"

Lana chuckled. "Oh no! They're not for looking at the sun, but they help shield your eyes from the glare. When I was lying here earlier the sun was shining down through the leaves and into my eyes, so I put them on."

"Hmm. Sunglasses." Merry said with interest. "What else do you have in that pack of yours?"

"Oh, just a few things. Some clothes like my jeans and couple of shirts, some jewelry…my notebook, which is more or less ruined now."

She pulled out the thick notebook and showed them where Legolas' arrow had punctured it in Moria. The sketchbook, thankfully, escaped that fate, although its cover did sport a rather nice indentation.

"I also have my iPhone, which plays music."

"Eye-fone?" Pippin asked, mystified.

She pulled out the device and started to explain how it worked. They were astounded as the touchscreen lit up and she flipped through the apps.

"You can talk to people from far away? But how?" Merry could hardly believe that this odd glowing rectangle could do such a thing.

"Well it doesn't work here; it relies on a signal and there are no cell phone towers here. But back home, I could call anyone I needed to, and they would answer on their phone. But I used it mostly for storing information, and my music of course."

They were bursting with questions that she answered patiently and with some amusement. When she asked if they would like to hear her music they instantly said yes. She showed them how to put the earbuds in their ears. Selecting a song, she checked the volume then handed the ear-buds to Merry.

He was nervous as he was not quite sure what to expect. When the music started his eyes grew wide. After several moments he smiled.

"THIS IS STRANG MUSIC, BUT I LIKE IT!" He yelled.

Lana burst out laughing while Pippin looked at his cousin in confusion. "Why in the name of the Shire is he yelling? We're right in front of him."

"It's because the music is loud. Do want to listen, Pippin?"

He gave the idea some serious consideration before nodding. Lana removed the earbuds from Merry's ears. "Ok, time to let Pippin have a turn."

Merry looked disappointed. "Oh, do we have to? I was enjoying the strange music. There are instruments that I have never heard before. I liked the twangy one."

"That's the electric guitar. You'd probably be a rock n' roll fan if you were from my world."

Merry's brows drew together. "You listen to the sound of rocks rolling?"

Laughing Lana shook her head. "No silly. Never mind." Still chuckling she handed the ear-buds to Pippin.

Almost to a T, he had the same reaction as Merry. Soon he was tapping one of his large hairy feet to the beat of the music.

"I LIKE THIS!" He yelled.

"Why is he yelling?" Merry asked shooting Pippin an odd look.

Lana could not contain her laughter. The rest of the afternoon was spent listening to music and learning about blues, rock n' roll, and indie rock. She made a special note to point out why a band called the Black Keys was "awesome."

Dinner came far too quickly, and Lana was actually sad to see the afternoon go. She had thoroughly enjoyed sharing a piece of her world with the hobbits. And they seemed to have enjoyed it just as much as she. In fact they were so enthused about it that they had tried to explain the "magical" iPhone to the others. But they were all confused.

Lana laughed to herself as she heard the hobbits humming "Gold On the Ceiling." She was so caught up with the two that she had not noticed when Legolas returned and seated himself beside her.

"What are the hobbits doing?" He asked, watching their antics bemusedly.

Lana jumped and faced him in surprise. "When did you get back?" She blurted before she could stop herself.

Legolas seemed unfazed by the rude question. "A few moments ago," he glanced back at the hobbits who were singing and now dancing.

Lana felt her lips quirk in amusement. "I let them listen to some music on my iPhone this afternoon. They're singing one of the songs I played them."

Legolas was baffled, so Lana reached into the pocket of her jeans and took out the contraption.

"This device can play music. Would you like to listen?"

Legolas stared at the unassuming object. He shot a glance at the hobbits he finally turned back to her. Slowly he nodded. His eyes grew large as the small screen came to life. Selecting the same song that Merry and Pippin were now butchering. She demonstrated how to put the earbuds on then held them out to Legolas. He looked uncertain but did as she told him.

He jumped and his eyes widened further when the loud and strange music filled his head. Lana thought he looked frightened as well as pained. Immediately she turned off the music.

"Are you ok?"

The elf yanked the earbuds off quickly and stared at them as if they were going to attack him. His head was still ringing with the strange sounds.

"Legolas?"

"I do not like that device. It hurts my ears."

Lana frowned. Here she was trying to be nice and reach out—ease a little of the tension between them, but the only thing she succeeded in doing was making their situation worse.

"I'm sorry." She quickly wrapped the earbuds around the device and tucked back into her pocket. Her eyes remained diverted.

Legolas noticed that she looked tense and he immediately felt foolish for how he had reacted—even though the contraption had startled him beyond belief. Still, he felt like a child who had been startled by a loud clap of thunder.

"It is alright. The sound was only too loud for my ears."

She grimaced. "I'm sorry. I forgot that elves have super hearing." He nodded and changed the subject.

"I saw you training with Aragorn this morning. You have come a long way in a short length of time."

"Uhm, thanks." She was curling a loose strand of her hair around her finger. Then she glanced sideways at him and realized that he seemed to be genuine in his praise. Turning to face him she said, "You really think I've come a long way?"

"Aye," he smiled warmly.

Lana carefully inspected the elf next to her trying to see if he was being overly kind or mocking. But she saw only sincerity in his face. Her eyes traveled over him and she noted that he was wearing his quiver. His bow lay by his booted feet. A question that had been nagging her for days surfaced in her mind.

"You said a few days ago that you've had years to practice archery. How long exactly have you been practicing?"

Legolas grinned. "I received my first bow from my parents when I was only a lad. I was thirteen."

She nodded thinking. "So, what? Like fifteen years or so?" He didn't look that old. She guessed he was somewhere between twenty-five or thirty. She herself was twenty-nine, and he didn't look that much older than her.

Legolas laughed. "2,919 years."

Lana blinked blankly, her mouth falling open. "Uh, did you just say 2,000?"

"Aye, and nine hundred and nineteen," He told her warmly.

"Holy shit! Just how old are you?"

"I'm 2,931."

She made a sound of disbelief. "That's…that's unbelievable." Then she looked him over with a keen eye. "You're joking aren't you? Any minute now you're going to start laughing at me and tell me that I'm a gullible human." She wagged a finger at him. "You're trying to pull the wool over my eyes."

Legolas blinked. "Nay, I have no wool to pull over your eyes," he replied in pure confusion.

Lana ended up laughing instead of him. "Never mind. It's just an expression."

"Ah. I am not familiar with it."

She flapped the comment away. "So you're really 2,931?"

"'Tis my true age."

Her nose wrinkled as she made a face. "Geez, you're ancient!"

He laughed with her and the sound was delightful to hear. "I may seem ancient to a mortal but I am young compared to many elves. We are immortal after all."

She stared blankly at him again. "You're immortal?" Her voice was thick with incredulity. "As in you can't die?"

"Elves can die…in a sense. We can cease to exist on this earth if we are slain, or we can fade away with severe grief. But even when our body cease to exist here, our spirit dwells in the Halls of Mandos, unless called forth again."

She cocked her head. "The Halls of Mandos? What is that? Your afterlife?"

"It is where our spirits rest until the world ends or it is born again."

She nodded comparing this with the mythologies she knew. Curiosity now piqued she found her inhibitions regarding Legolas starting to dwindle as her interest in foreign cultures resurfaced. She loved mythology. That was why she had studied ancient the western classics as an undergraduate.

She was about to ask him more questions but froze sensing a discordant feeling crawling over her skin. Looking across the camp she saw Boromir watching them with considerable interest.

"Still pretending to be a warrior?" He quipped acidly when their eyes met.

Lana narrowed her gaze dangerously but chose to ignore the man. She refused to stoop to his level. She had done enough of that already. Turning back to Legolas she said, "If you'd excuse me, Legolas. I'm going to get some fresh air."

"You have not eaten," he noted with concern.

"I seem to have lost my appetite," she replied in clipped tones as she shot a searing look Boromir's way.

Much later she returned to fetch her sketchbook and moved off near the fountain that she enjoyed watching. The sound of the water was soothing and she felt settled after her walk. The night was mild so she wore her lightweight yoga clothes and her fleece-lined hoodie. The tears in her clothes had been mended and they were almost as good as new.

It felt good to wear her own clothing instead of the silky nightgown the elves offered to her. While she enjoyed pretending to be a princess, the dress felt impractical. The nightgown would bunch up around her legs in the middle of the night and she would wake up tangled in it. Not to mention, it made her feel like a Victorian prude. Not at all her style.

Opening her sketchbook, her thoughts circled back to Boromir. She didn't know what his problem with her was now. As usual he seemed intent on picking a fight with her.

She recalled one encounter a couple of days previous when he had accosted her on her way back from the bathhouse. Her hair had been wet and the water dripped making her black camisole damp. She had decided to not wear her bra and was far enough from camp that she didn't feel the need to don her long-sleeved shirt yet.

She had noticed the medieval sensibilities of those around her and knew she was pushing boundaries with her skintight clothes. The last thing she wanted to do was cause a greater scandal by exposing herself indecently. On top of that, she was the only female in a group of eight males. While they all had been polite she didn't want to give them any ideas.

But it was liberating to not wear so many layers. And she didn't want her long-sleeve yoga shirt to get sopping wet from her hair. Being far enough from the camp she felt confident that she wouldn't run into anyone. As she walked back the cool air had kissed her heated skin and it felt good.

"Do all women in your land dress like that, or just you?"

His condescending voice had startled her out of her good mood. Immediately her eyes snapped to his. He had his sword and shield and appeared to be on his way towards the field they used for training.

"A good afternoon to you too." She quipped with insincere sweetness.

His dark brown eyes had narrowed and he scowled as he looked her over. "It seems you're immodest as well as incompetent."

Wishing to throw a punch she curled her hands into fists. Instead, she crossed her arms and eyed him cynically. "What's the matter, Captain America? Unnerved by the fact that I have an actual body under my clothes? Newsflash for you, all women look something similar to this."

He approached her slowly as if stalking prey "You think your bravado will save you? Wit doesn't win battles."

"No?" She intoned in fake surprise. Lifting her hand to cover her spurious lips she exclaimed, "Well shit, I'll have to rethink my entire survival strategy!"

Rolling her eyes she tried to move past him, but his hand lashed out catching her wrist. Suppressing her gut instinct to kick him between the legs she settled for a dark scowl.

"You had better watch yourself, _witch_. These are perilous days and those who are trustworthy are fewer still. If I so much as catch you casting your net," he squeezed her wrist tightly.

But Lana refused to give him the satisfaction of a grimace. "Let go of me, Boromir," she ordered in a dangerous tone.

He held her tight for a moment longer then released her. She stepped back and drew herself up to her full height. She was still shorter than him by six inches at least, but she knew how to intimidate when necessity called for it.

"If you so much as touch me again I will show you just how much hurt I can do. I've dealt with enough dogs in my life, and I can sure as hell deal with you."

His eyes raked over her, and warning bells went off in her head. She had seen a look like that before and it had not led to good things.

"Are you so certain?" He stepped closer. "All I see is a scared maid who is in far too deep."

Annoyed, alarmed, and angry she stepped around him. "Go fuck yourself!" She spat and then returned to camp as quickly as she could.

After that encounter she kept a wary eye on Boromir. That look in his eyes made her shiver anew just thinking about it. While she had no doubt she could cause him major damage should he decide to force himself upon her, there was not a chance she could overpower him.

That evening she had caught the same licentious look in his eyes. It made her feel exposed and unsafe, as well as angry. She didn't like feeling powerless. While she mostly certain Boromir would never try anything with the rest of the Fellowship around, she was half tempted to ask Aragorn to give her that knife he had. Her anxiety over the weapon was far less than her anxiety over Boromir.

Stuffing all those thoughts away, she focused on her sketchbook. Drawing usually set her at ease and was her go-to activity when stressed. There were many occasions when in the field after dangerous situations she had taken to drawing. It was methodical yet meditative. It focused her mind like few things could.

She sat there well into the night drawing by lamplight. She was working on some sketches of home while they were still fresh in her mind. They consisted of portraits of her family, friends, and her cat. She drew the places she had been to, trying to capture them all before memory faded.

Her mind wandered as her pencil scratched the paper's surface. The soft reassuring hiss of graphite on paper settled her mind. She wondered if anyone from home had noticed her absence yet. Surely they had noticed by now…that is, if time ran the same way here as it did there. She was not a brilliant scientist, but she had learned enough to know that time did not necessarily run the same way in different parts of the universe.

_Or in alternate universes._ She was still unsure of where Middle Earth was in relation to her own Earth. As she pondered this new world her thoughts inevitably turned to her days here. She smiled as she recalled Merry and Pippin's enthusiasm for her iPhone. It had been a wonderful moment of connection. And it was a defining moment for her. It had allowed her to start to feel like herself.

The music then made her think of Legolas. The elf had been kind to her and they had even managed to have their first half-decent conversation. And even though she had startled him with her music he hadn't seemed damaged by the event. The tension had ebbed as they talked about his age.

She still found it difficult to believe that he was immortal. Still, she had no reason to doubt his words. Given everything she had encountered so far, she wouldn't be surprised if dragons and unicorns were real in this world as well.

Immortality was such a foreign concept to her. It was an enticing idea and there were many stories about eternal life. She herself had been raised Catholic and was familiar with the concept of the spirit living on after death. Even so, the idea of living forever sounded awfully lonely. She wondered if elves ever felt the same.

"It is very late and you had a long day. You should be resting."

She jumped at the sound of the voice. Her heart shot into her throat as the object of her thoughts entered the ring of lamplight. She quickly closed her book, wide-eyed.

"I did not mean to intrude," Legolas told her and he started to back away.

Lana would have let him go if it weren't for the expression on his face. She saw that her actions were hurting him. Feeling guilty she forced herself to speak up.

"No, no…it's…it's ok. You're not intruding. I just didn't expect anyone else to be awake."

He smiled genially. "Elves require less rest than mortals. I saw the light." He gestured to the lamp.

She nodded in understanding. He must have come to investigate its source. He stood there for a moment and Lana saw this as a chance to continue to get past her fears.

"Um, you can join me…uh, if you'd like." She offered quietly.

His brows rose in surprise and for a moment he thought he misheard her. But then he saw her gesturing to the ground beside her. He nodded in acceptance before she could change her mind. Lowering himself gracefully, he sat cross-legged on the grass. He was mindful to keep his distance.

As the light touched upon him, Lana noticed that he was wearing the silver tunic she had seen him in on the first night in Lothlórien. He had also brought a bowl of food left over from dinner. Her stomach approved of this offering.

"I thought you might be hungry," he explained as he set the bowl down in front of her.

She smiled at his thoughtfulness. Eyeing the selection she grabbed some grapes and popped them in her mouth.

"Thanks," she said after swallowing.

He nodded. A tense silence followed as she nibbled self-consciously while he watched her.

"I want to apologize for not being available to give you your lesson today." He said when the silence became too long for him. "I was invited by one of my father's friends to join them for the day. I thought it rude to decline."

Lana shrugged it off. "No worries. I used the time off to rest and I hung out with Merry and Pippin. It's all good."

He observed her quietly for a moment. Then he said, "You have being doing well with your archery as of late."

She lifted an incredulous brow. "If you say so,"

He smiled sincerely. "I do say so. Your improvement may be slow, but I see it. Soon you will be a fine archer."

"Thank you. I hope so."

She glanced down into her lap and his eyes followed her gaze. "The others say that you are an artist and a very good one at that."

She made a dismissive gesture but smiled all the same. "Gimli must have said that. He really liked the sketch I did of him." Her smile grew. "In fact, he's still raving about it."

"Indeed. Gimli spoke very highly of you."

Lana's brows furrowed then and she peered at Legolas directly for the first time that night. "Why don't you and Gimli get along?"

Legolas shifted as if he was uneasy then spoke. "Dwarves and elves do not have a very good history. There are many differences between our races."

Lana thought that a poor excuse. "And neither of you can forget the past and create a new future? I don't know very much about this world but from what I've gathered, this group has some sort of mission. And Aragorn is quite adamant about everyone getting along."

"Aye. There is a greater cause at stake, and for that Gimli and I tolerate each other."

Lana noticed the reserved gleam in his eyes and wondered at it. "So what is this quest? What are you all looking for?"

"It is not my place to tell you," he told her apologetically.

Lana grimaced none too pleased with that answer. "Yeah; everyone keeps telling me that. They say that they can't tell me or that I'll 'learn soon enough.'" She mimicked the superior tones of the others. "I'm tired of hearing that all the time," she said genuinely.

Legolas lowered his head a bit, his blond hair spilling down his shoulders. "Forgive me, but it is for your own protection."

Lana snorted sardonically, but shook her head not at all surprised. It appeared that he wouldn't budge on this either.

"Yeah, I've heard that one before too. I really don't understand all this secrecy."

Exhaling she scribbled absently in the divot in the leather surface of her sketchbook. A tense silence fell between them again. Lana grimaced slightly and glanced covertly at Legolas. He was still observing her with those unfathomable eyes. But there was a sweetness to him that she had been overlooking. He wasn't a bad person. In fact, he appeared to be one of the kindest members of this strange group she found herself in.

Worrying her lower lip, she decided that it was now or never. "I'm…um, I'm really sorry about how I've been acting lately. I swear I'm usually not like this…" she gave him a self-deprecating half smile. "All tense and rude and well, you know…"

Legolas acknowledged her words with a nod. Inhaling she plunged ahead. "In fact, I'd like to start over," she said and extended her hand towards him. "My name's Lana Rey."

Legolas looked at her hand in confusion, but he slowly reached for it. Right away Lana noticed how incredibly soft his skin was, especially for someone who was an archer. She shook his hand gently a few times and then released it.

Legolas smiled realizing that this was a gesture of greeting. She wished to start anew, and it lifted his spirits.

"I am pleased to meet you, Lana Rey,"he replied warmly. Then he put his hand to his chest and dipped his head before extending his arm towards her in the traditional formal elven greeting. "I am Legolas, son of Thranduil."

Feeling strangely unburdened, Lana grinned. "And you're from Mirkwood, right?"

Legolas' brows lifted in surprise. "How did you know this?" Suddenly he wondered if she knew his title as well.

"Aragorn told me," she explained. "I asked him once if you were from Lothlórien, but he said Mirkwood." She leaned back against the tree, feeling a little more at ease. "What's your home like?"

A sad smile touched the elf's lips. "It was once a beautiful great forest with tall proud trees that reached for the sky. But an evil shadow has turned much of it dark and dangerous." He frowned, lost in memories. Rousing himself he continued. "It is northeast of where we are now; across the Anduin River."

"Is it very far from here?"

He nodded. "It is many day's ride."

She tilted her head, her honey blond hair catching the lamplight. "Do you live in the trees like the Lórien elves do?"

"Nay. My home is in a wooded hillside beside a river. Great open caverns extend deep into the mountains there. It is well hidden and carefully protected." He smiled fondly thinking of his home, but then a mischievous gleam entered his eyes. "But now I am finding myself preferring the open skies and foreign forests over familiar enclosed passageways."

Her lips curled, mirroring his look. "That is the best part of traveling—getting to see so many new places and meet new people. I'm guessing you have a family there?"

He gave a short nod. "Aye. My father lives there." He saw the question in her eyes and answered it before she could ask. "I have no siblings, and my mother's spirit is in the West—in Valinor."

The tone in his voice made her frown in confusion. "Valinor?"

Legolas glanced at her but then looked away, his gaze distant. "Valinor is the ultimate home of the elves. The Valar reside there. Once the crossing is made, one cannot return to these lands." He sighed heavily. "I was young when her life was taken from us."

Lana frowned, her heart clenching at his sorrow though she could not explain way. She was a sympathetic person—even empathetic at times—but she couldn't explain the strange wrenching pain she felt from him. It affected her so much that her own worries seemed insubstantial compared to his.

Even more strangely she felt compelled to reach out and comfort him. Alarmed by this feeling she pushed back against the tree pulling in the opposite direction of where her new emotions tugged.

Instead she settled for a heartfelt, "I'm so sorry."

He gave her a sad half smile. "She is with the Valar. I hope now that she has peace that eluded here." His gaze became detached yet again seeing images that Lana would never know.

"Who are the Valar?" She asked hoping to redirect his thoughts from such sorrows.

"They are the Great Ones, the Stewards of Arda; Lords and Ladies of the West. They helped shape this world and watch over it from afar."

She nodded as he spoke. These Valar sounded like the elven equivalent of gods.

"And this Valinor—it's like an elvish paradise? A heaven of sorts?"

He tilted his head observing her. "Aye. They say it is more wondrous and beautiful than any land east of the Sundering Seas. But I cannot speak from experience."

He could see that Lana was listening intently. Thoughts whirled in her eyes and he wondered what she was thinking. Her guard was still up, but not as high. He was pleased that they were speaking now, even though talking of his mother still pained his heart even after all these years.

But the compassion in Lana's eyes was, oddly enough, like a balm. He knew not why her condolence soothed him when many other's sympathetic words over the years did nothing. Regardless, it was not something he wished to dwell on.

"What is your world like?" He asked, pushing painful thoughts of his mother away.

Lana let out a sigh and her eyes took on the faraway look. "Where to begin? It's so different from here in almost every way." She looked into the trees, her mind's eye seeing what he could not. Then she glanced back at him, her expression mischievous and knowing.

"It's noisy, crowded, fast-paced…but it's also expansive and breathtaking…filled with the beautiful and horrible." She gave him a wry smile. "I suppose the most noticeable difference is all the technology we have."

"Such as the machinery you told Gimli about?" Legolas supplied. "The…car…and that loud device?"

She smiled chuckling slightly. It pleased her that he remembered, even though she had not been speaking to him at the time. "Yes. There are a lot of cars and loud devices."

"What do cars look like?" His blue eyes sparkled brightly with interest.

Lana opened her sketchbook, flipped to a blank page.

"Here, I'll show you." She sketched a quick image of a small four-door sedan. Legolas dared to move a bit closer.

"You sit here in the front to operate it." She tapped the driver's side. "It runs on gasoline and a battery that's charged with electricity."

"Lightening?" He recalled her trying to explain electricity to the hobbits a week ago. Back then she would hardly look him in the eye. But his ears had been attuned to her stories.

"Yeah, sorta like that. My people have figured out how to harness it and use it as an energy source."

"Intriguing,"

"Not gonna lie, it's pretty awesome. But don't ask me how to put it all together. I just know how to use it." She said with a genial grin.

Legolas smiled in return. "What other teck…teck—no—nolo—"

"What other technology do we have?"

"Aye." He nodded eagerly with a relieved smile.

"Well," she said reaching into her pocket she pulled out her iPhone. "This device does more than play music. Its main function is a communication device—a phone."

The screen illuminated as she touched it. Seeing his face, she said, "Don't worry. I won't make you listen to any music." She lifted a single brow at his sheepish expression.

Giving him the same explanation she gave the hobbits about phones and long distance communication, Lana pointed out all the features this wondrous little contraption could do.

"It stores my contacts' information, allows me to jot down notes; I can take pictures…"

At this point Legolas' interest grew even further. She showed him the camera feature and took a picture of the fountain in front of them. He was so astounded by this that he had her demonstrate this action multiple times. Questions bubbled forth to the point that she had no answers to some of them. She showed him a few of the pictures she had in her phone. One of which was her car.

He lingered over the pictures of her family and friends. The images were incredible. And the mere fact that this little glowing box captured images from real life was mind-blowing. Yet more intriguing was the opportunity to actually see what her world looked liked. It didn't look so different from Arda, physically speaking. There were trees and grass, flowers, and a blue sky with white clouds.

But the cities and the architectures were incredibly different. And there were many structures that he didn't understand.

"What is that?" He asked pointing at an enormous winged vehicle.

"It's an airplane. It allows people to fly."

He looked at her incredulously then studied the plane. There was a man standing in a uniform in front of the massive plane.

"That's my dad. He's a pilot—meaning, he flies planes. He travels all over the world. I guess you could say he's a glorified ferryman." She laughed lightly, amused by her own joke.

Legolas was stunned into silence. He knew not what to think. As if sensing this, Lana put the glowing device away.

"Don't worry," she said with a dismissive shrug. "All that stuff is pretty complicated anyhow. We'll just say that my world is very different from here."

Opening her sketchbook again, she flipped through the pages and then showed him the drawings she had shown to Gimli.

"This is what I was telling Gimli about. It's called ice-skating. It's a sport or just plain fun. You put these shoes on that have metal blades on the bottom." She drew a rough sketch of an ice skate on the corner of the page. "When you put the shoes on you can glide around on the ice."

Legolas looked at the image with curiosity and smiled. "An interesting source of enjoyment. Do you excel at this?"

Lana rolled her eyes and laughed. "Oh no! I'm pretty terrible at it. I usually end up skating on my bottom more than my feet. I'm better at surfing." She flipped through more pages and found the color image she did of this pastime. "I prefer this sport because it's a summer one. I hate winter!" She said emphatically with a smirk.

She explained surfing and how she and her brother would go any chance they got. Flipping through more pages she showed him some really old sketches.

"These are some of the buildings that I drew back when I was in college."

"Buildings? College?"

"Buildings are sort of like houses—in a way. They can be really tall—taller than trees even. People live or work in them. And college is where young adults go to learn. It prepares them for the adult world."

He nodded slowly. "And what are those? I saw them in the other pictures on your…aye-phone."

"Those are street lights. They're lamps with light bulbs in them. They're sort of like a candle that you can turn on and off with a flick of a switch."

He frowned softly. "I don't understand."

Realizing that this too was also over his head, she said, "I'm sorry. I can show you some things you would know about."

Turning a page, she showed him sketches of trees, deer, and birds.

"It's a forest." He smiled.

"Yeah. This was one near where I lived in London. I loved to go on the weekends and get away from the city. I would hike, take pictures, and draw."

"May I look?"

Lana hesitated a moment but decided this was no big deal. She nodded and relinquished the book to him. She watched as he lingered carefully over each sketch.

"These are oak trees," he said, grinning.

She nodded. "Yeah, that's right."

He turned the pages studying the drawings of animals, places, and people. Turning another page, he was delighted to see the sketches of his companions.

"These are the hobbits."

She nodded and noticed that even though he was nearly 3,000 years old, he had a childlike essence about him. She found it charming. Her lips curved as she watched his face.

"It looks just like them—and Aragorn." He pointed to the image of the Ranger. "That is remarkable. It looks exactly like Aragorn.

He flipped through following pages that were filled with images of his friends as well as places in Lothlórien lingering over each. When he turned to the pages with the sketches of him, he stopped and looked at them for a long time.

For a moment, Lana held her breath. She thought that maybe he hated them or was disturbed by them, but instead he smiled warmly at her.

"No one has ever sketched me before. I even remember what I was thinking when you drew these. You've drawn my quiver to perfection, and my bow as well. The detail in my clothing is amazing. These are very good," he told her, glancing up at to peer into her face. "Thank you for sharing them with me."

She blushed and looked down. "You're welcome."

Noticing her embarrassment he closed the sketchbook and handed it back to her. She took it and tucked it back on her lap.

"I'm afraid my inquisitiveness has kept you from sleeping. Aragorn will not be forgiving in his lessons tomorrow. You should rest."

She nodded in agreement. "That's probably a good idea." She covered a yawn.

"I can escort you back," he offered genially.

Smiling in consent, she rose with him. With her sketchbook under one arm, she walked with him back to the camp. The distance was very short and the walk ended before it had any real chance of beginning.

"Good night, Lady Lana." Legolas bid her with a kindhearted smile.

She gave him a shy smile of her own, daring to think that perhaps they might be able to become friends. "Good night, Legolas."

The two went their separate ways oblivious to the fact that Aragorn sat in the shadows smoking his pipe. A slow smile curled his lips.

* * *

_Thoughts? Comments? _

_Thank you for reading! _


	11. A Close Encounter

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.**

I make no claims on Tolkien's works. I also give credit to Cormak3032.

A quick side note: I myself am only fluent in English, whereas Lana is a bit of a polyglot as you'll soon discover. That being said, I use Google Translator for the languages she knows. If you're a native speaker of Italian, Gaelic or Arabic and have corrections for how things should be said I would love to have them!

As always thanks for reading!

* * *

**Chapter 10: A Close Encounter**

Lana thought that Aragorn was acting a little strange the following morning. They went for their brisk run, practiced treading quietly through the forest and then had the sword lesson. Yet he was quieter than usual. It was like he was…preoccupied.

She didn't bother to question him about it. Aragorn, she had come to learn, was not one to offer up his thoughts readily. And while she thought of him as a brother, he was more unlike her own brother than alike. She didn't feel it was appropriate to pester him even though she was curious. She had to marvel at the man's ability to still fight her masterfully even though his mind was elsewhere. She did try extra hard to best him but was still unable to.

_So much for an advantage! The man is like a machine!_

When the lesson was over she went back to camp for an early lunch. The day was surprisingly warm and she pulled her hair up off her neck and tied a red bandana around it. Frodo and Sam were the only ones at camp. Sam informed her that Legolas was off with the elves and that Boromir, Merry, and Pippin were practicing swordplay. Gimli was with them to offer his assistance.

Drinking deeply of the clean cold water from a pitcher she sat down heavily. In truth, she felt too hot to eat, and she barely picked at the cheese and fruit that were leftover from breakfast.

A strange ringing was in her ears that weren't there before. Shaking her head she felt oddly dizzy. Perhaps she was coming down with something. Lana grimaced. That wouldn't be good. There was no time to get sick. And truth be told, she was afraid of falling ill in this world. If this place was stuck in some middle ages time period she shuddered to think what the medicines would be like!

"Are you well, Lady Lana?" Frodo asked her.

She looked at him blankly. The dark-haired hobbit rarely spoke to her. Usually nothing more than a hello passed between them.

"Huh?"

"I asked if you were well. You look a bit pale."

Lana pressed the back of her hand to her forehead. "Actually no. I'm not feeling good at all." She frowned "It's weird. It came out of nowhere. I felt fine this morning."

"Will you be alright?" Sam asked worriedly. "Perhaps you need to eat?"

Lana declined. For once food sounded unappealing. "No; I'll be fine. I'm going to lie down. If Legolas returns to get me for our lesson will you tell him that I don't feel well?"

The hobbits said they would and watched as she retreated to her tent.

Lana didn't know how long she slept. All she knew was that her head was pounding and that her sleep had been anything but restful. Strange dreams had plagued her. Images of her time in Afghanistan blurred with Moria along with images of places she had never seen before.

She dreamed of lands on fire and horrific genocides. Throughout it all, there had been a fiery volcano in a dark, dead land. It loomed like a threatening hell in the background of her dreams. There had been a strange voice—or had it been just a sound? It had sounded like a rhythmic chanting but she couldn't be sure—but it chased her through her dreams. No matter how hard she tried she couldn't shake it, and she became panicked. There was a sickening feel of suspended animation as if she was suddenly thrown from a car; then she was falling.

Her eyes flew open. Heart racing like a steam engine, she felt like she couldn't breathe. When she bolted up she saw that she was in Lothlórien. The camp was very quiet; eerily so. Both Sam and Frodo were napping in their tent not too far from her.

Lana ran a hand through her hair and pulled the bandana off. She rubbed her face with it trying to dispel the nightmares.

_What a trippy-ass dream…_

She reminded herself that she was a grown woman and that she was _far_ too old to be frightened by imaginings conjured by an overwrought mind. She was safe after all. But she knew all too well the effects of PTSD. It must be the mental strain that had caused it. There hadn't been much time to consider her predicament, and what mental energy she had left was spent on pining for her family and friends. At night, she would try to remember their faces and the sound of their voices as well as solve the puzzle of her arrival here.

Lana cradled her head in her heads. She felt the blood in her temples pounding. Now that she thought about it, there was a certain quality to _this_ dream that was different than any others she had. It shared a similar feeling of that hazy dream that she vaguely recalled before waking up in Moria. However, that first memory lacked the malevolence that this nightmare had.

Exhaling she rubbed the back of her neck. Her gaze then fell on Frodo. She had noticed that he rarely slept. Often he would stay awake late into the night, or he pretended to be sleeping. As always there was a strange, distressed air about him. While she did not believe fully in the New Age description of auras and spectrum fields, Lana was sensitive to moods and vibrations; although she took it all with a grain of salt.

But Frodo seemed to have a dark vibe around him. She was certain that it didn't come _from_ him. She doubted her companions would be interested in protecting him if he was in anyway evil. But that didn't explain the sinister feeling that seemed to follow the hobbit, like a shadow. It was a vibe Lana did not like, and she made it a point to keep well out of his way.

Gazing at him now, however, he seemed harmless. She mused that his body must have finally given up and forced him to rest. He was snoring softly. Sam was stretched out nearby.

Those two were rarely apart. She wondered at that for the relationship between them was more like master and servant than equals. But Sam was ever dutiful and attentive, not minding Frodo's taciturnity. As she thought more about it, she wondered at her companions concern for Frodo's safety. Perhaps he was someone important. Royalty maybe? As always she had more questions than answers.

A cool breeze shifted the leaves overhead chasing dark shadows over the camp. It must have been later than she realized for it was rather dark. However, the light that did come through the foliage caught on something golden. The sparkling object grabbed Lana's notice.

Cocking her head she saw that it was a simple gold ring on a silver chain around Frodo's neck. It glinted in the pale light.

_Odd_.

Intrigued she stretched and rose. Without consciously thinking, she moved towards the sleeping hobbits. Soon she was kneeling beside Frodo though later she didn't remember how she got there. Moving as if in a trance, her hand drifted towards the ring. It was so plain, yet so perfectly formed. The simplicity of it was alluring and she fancied it would look lovely on her finger. Idly she wondered if the metal would be cool or warm to the touch.

Without warning she froze; her breathing hitched in her throat. A wave of nausea swept through her, but she gripped her head instead of her stomach. She sat there shaking uncontrollably. A strange feeling of being trapped within her own body held her motionless and mute. The unnatural chanting from her dreams blared in her head. Her entire body seemed to freak out, but she was stuck like a stone statue. She could hear her heart beating frantically. Panic swept through her body as a fear, unlike anything she had _ever_ known started to drown her.

Suddenly with a cry, she broke free.

Frodo awakened instantly, his hand unconsciously moving to the ring that hung on his neck. Sam started awake, his brown eyes wide with fright.

Lana was on her kneels next to Frodo. A look of complete abject horror was on her face and she held her arms up as if to shield herself. They watched, alarmed and panicked as she sprang to her feet. The woman swayed dangerously as if she had consumed too much ale. Frodo looked at her confusion until he realized it wasn't _him_ that she was looking at…_ The Ring!_

Lana was backpedaling as if Frodo was a wild and dangerous animal. Her dark blue eyes stared almost unseeingly and she gasped for breath. Wild panic glistened in her stare. Still backing away she slammed directly into Aragorn. With startled exclamation, she pushed him out of her way and bolted into the woods.

Shocked he looked back at Frodo and Sam for answers. Seeing Frodo clutching the Ring to his chest, he swore and tore off after the woman.

For the first time ever, Aragorn found that he could not catch up with her and it took him fifteen minutes to finally find her. She was leaning against a tree nearby a small streamlet. When he approached she jumped physically, still caught in the terror of her experience.

"Peace! All is well," he murmured. She settled only a little. Coming to her side he touched her arm. "Tell me what happened."

She was panting heavily and her eyes were wide with unshed tears. "Am I awake?" She wheezed. It was hard to breathe. "Please tell me I'm awake!" Her broken voice quavered.

The Ranger grimaced in concern. "You are awake."

She thrust her arm at him. "Pinch me to be sure," she asked not looking at him. "I need to be sure."

He didn't know why she asked this of him, but he gently pinched her arm.

She felt the warmth of his fingers on her arm and the feeling of him squeezing her skin. "Thank God! I'm awake," she exhaled heavily.

Aragorn frowned at her. "Tell me what has you so frightened," he commanded gently.

She shook her head. "It's so completely…_stupid_." She was certain Aragorn would think she was crazy.

"It cannot be stupid if it has you this frightened. Tell me." He urged soothingly.

She closed her eyes tightly, and then looked at him. "I heard a voice in my head…a _deep_ voice." She waited for the laughter or the look that would say she was nuts. However, he did neither and waited for her to continue.

"At first I couldn't understand it, then suddenly I could. It was so dark…cold…and, and _sinister!_ And it kept telling me that it would help me get home, that it knew the way. But I had to _kill_ Frodo," her voice ended on a horrified whisper. "It said to kill him and take the ring he has."

Suddenly she laughed hysterically. It was not a happy sound. Shaking her head, she gripped her temples with her fingers so that her nails dug into her skin.

"Theodore-fucking-Roosevelt. It was so...so…_fucked up!"_

Aragorn was deeply troubled by her words. His lips drew into a severe frown, but Lana didn't notice. She was far too distraught.

"I have no idea what happened! I don't think it was something I ate, and I've only been drinking water. What could've of caused this? Did someone slip me a drug or something?" She continued her tirade, her mind racing through the possibilities.

She held out her hands and grimaced. "Look…I'm afraid. I can't stop shaking. _Fuck!" _She looked pleadingly at Aragorn. "I don't know where that voice came from, but I _never_ want to hear it again!"

The man moved forward and gripped her hands firmly instilling his strength and authority into her. "The Ring of Power is very dangerous. You must not listen to it or do anything it tells you!" Aragorn told her vehemently.

Lana stared at him, brows drew together. "Wha—Ring of Power?"

Aragorn nodded, he gestured for her to sit. With a heavy sigh, he knew it was time to give her some of the answers she sought. He recounted the story of the One Ring, of Sauron the Deceiver—the Ring's creator and master. He explained how it was lost and then found centuries later. Darkness entered the world forcing those who were righteous and wise to convene in Rivendell. He told her about the forming of the Fellowship of the Ring and Frodo's self-appointed role as Ring-bearer.

By the time he recounted their entering of Moria, Lana found herself wishing she had never met this group. A swift death was certainly preferable to the to horrors that awaited this company.

Looking up at the sky she bemoaned her awful luck. "Why couldn't I have ended up on some quiet farm or village? Why on a damned quest to destroy an evil possessed talking ring!"

"Gandalf believed that you have a purpose and that must be so since fate brought you to us."

Unable to control herself, tears welled in her eyes. She began shaking again. Tucking her hands under arms she hugged herself trying to hide it.

Now she _really_ missed Gandalf. The sense of security he gave her during was something she desperately wanted now. And he certainly knew more about her circumstances than he was willing to impart—of that she was certain! At least he could have told her why she had to be with the Fellowship.

Aragorn studied her frightened face. Noting that despite her grave features there was an underlying resolve that gleamed behind her dread.

"You are strong," he told her, trying to bolster her failing confidence. "Stronger than many. Perhaps stronger than you know, for you managed to resist the Ring the first time it called to you. You will survive."

A silent tear escaped from her eye as reality slammed into her like a knife in the gut. She glanced sideways at him. A shadow of memory Aragorn didn't know passed before her eyes. He sensed that there was more behind her tears than just fear of the Ring. What it was, though, was as unreadable to him as a book written in Haradric.

"I will have to kill," Lana murmured thickly. "I'll have to be ruthless and go against all that I was taught to do—go against all that I am," she spoke unseeingly. "I don't know if I can do this, Aragorn."

He gently gripped her shoulders forcing her to look at him.

"You can, and you will. You have people here who care for you and will protect you to the best of their ability. There is great strength in your spirit. I see it." He squeezed her shoulders, and repeated,"You _will_ survive."

She stared at him none too sure. "And what about the Ring?" She shivered. "What if it _talks_ to me again?"

"Then you will ignore it. It wants you to believe that you can achieve greatness through it. But only destruction and suffering will occur with its use. It is difficult to ignore; I have felt its pull as well."

She gave him an oddly hopeful look. "It's talked to you too? How do _you_ ignore it?"

Unconsciously his fingers drifted to the silver pendant hidden under his collar. "By remembering what I swore to do; to protect Frodo and help him destroy it. I remember my friends and how much they mean to me. I remember how much Middle Earth means to me. I do not wish to see all that I love destroyed."

The cool metal of the pendant soothed his mind. An image of the face he treasured above all others floated before his mind's eye.

Unaware of his thoughts Lana swallowed and nodded. Absorbing all this slowly, she replied. "I will try to remember that."

However, she still didn't feel like she was a part of this world. Even now, she felt like some strange observer; seeing but not really participating. Everything was like some bizarre safari. And despite the horrors she had seen thus far, it was easier for her mind to dismiss just how truly unbelievable it all was. After all, she was just trying to survive all this.

But the Ring seemed to think she was very much a part of Middle Earth. So much so that it had tried to bewitch her mind. It wanted to _corrupt_ her. Lana clenched her jaw tightly. She would not allow that to happen! The idea of anyone or anything controlling her instantly set off her stubbornness. The only person who could control her was _herself_.

Aragorn watched Lana closely and noticed a determined spark flare to life in her eyes. There was still fear, and her body continued to tremble intermittently, but he knew she would not give in. This gave him great comfort.

Part of him admired her. It could not be easy to go through what she was now. Several times before he had tried to imagine what it would be like if he left Middle Earth only to find himself in a world so strange and different from all knew. Her stories about machinery, sprawling cities, and culture upon outré culture were in some ways intimidating. How could anyone stand it? Life in her world seemed to be lived at an extraordinary pace.

One had to be brave to live that way. And clearly, she had that courage for she had made her life on reporting on the worst of humanity's pursuits: war. While she revealed little of the battles she had seen, he could see the lingering effects on her: caution, calculation, and defensiveness—these all blended near seamlessly into her person. But as one who had fought in many battles, Aragorn recognized a fellow survivor.

He spent the rest of the afternoon with her. Most of the time was spent in mutual silence as their thoughts wandered over the fate they had been dealt. Eventually, Lana leaned into his brotherly embrace as she drew strength from him. His offer of solace nearly broke her anew, but she stubbornly slammed the door on her weaker constitutions. But it was hard.

So many times Lana had felt utterly alone here. She was still confused and found herself afraid more often than she cared to admit. Nothing in her previous life prepared her for this. And she had thought the worst had been over after surviving Afghanistan. Clearly, she had been wrong!

Again she wracked her brain for clues to her arrival here but it remained elusive. No one seemed to have any answers either. Closing her eyes, she tried to bring up everything she could remember. It was a strange blur. There had been the sensation of being anesthetized. Her mind had darkened as she lost all sense of her being. But she did remember a feeling of being pulled, or perhaps it was like falling…

The one thing that remained clear was the voice she had heard. But it frustrated her that she couldn't remember what it said. The voice had been feminine, though. And she remembered feeling a numinous peace descend over her.

Lana continued to search her memory, rehashing her feelings. But as usual, no answers came forth. Until entering Lothlórien survival had been paramount. Even now with all her training, there was little time to process anything.

But one thing was certain: she was lonely. Like a boat torn from its moorings she drifted through her life now. The friendly interactions between the other members of the Fellowship were quite superficial. She couldn't say she shared any deep bonds with them. While she liked most of them well enough, she still didn't know them. And they didn't understand her.

She missed her brother.

Squeezing her eyes closed she tried to focus on the comfort of Aragorn's arms around her. It wasn't the same. But it did soothe the rougher edges of her worn soul. And now she _knew_. She was not alone.

For the first time, she felt truly connected. A bond that neither Aragorn nor Lana had been aware of had formed between them. And it now solidified into something strong and enduring. She knew then, without a doubt she could trust Aragorn implicitly. He would be there for her. And she realized that she would do anything she could to be there for him.

A new stage of their friendship was born that afternoon.

Sighing, she let go of her tumultuous feelings and basked in the newfound trust. Her mind shifted—as ever it raced from one thing to the next.

And now Lana pondered his words and what she knew about him. Aragorn was not a man to offer much by way of personal information. What she did know about him was his personality. He was solid, persistent, and kind. He was generous, giving his time to each member of the Fellowship.

He devoted himself to the service of others. And despite all that he had witnessed in his life, all the trials, and tribulations, he had a noble quality about him that was attractive. Not that she saw him in _that_ light.

_No. I am not attracted to anyone here like that! _Her jaw set rigidly as she revoked the mere idea.

Still, Aragorn was like a surrogate brother; although he and Aidan couldn't be more _un_alike. But the peace and confidence she felt when she was with Aragorn weren't so different from what she felt with her twin she decided.

With a sigh, she relaxed against him and allowed his calm presence to comfort her weary soul.

o0o

A pernicious worry grew within Legolas when Sam told him of what had happened. The Fellowship had kept Lana in the dark for so long, and the Ring had not liked that. It sought to return to human hands—man or woman—it didn't matter. Just as long as it could find a weak heart, debase it, and find its way back to the hand of its master.

Sam had also said that Aragorn had gone after Lana; which meant that the Ranger must still be with her now.

After some searching, he discovered them by a brook that ran through the woods some distance from the camp. On silent feet, he stepped up beside them. Noticing the movement, Aragorn turned towards him. Legolas saw that Lana was sleeping. She lay in Aragorn's arms, her face pressed against his chest.

Aragorn spoke with soft concern. "The Ring called to her."

Legolas gave a short nod. "Samwise told me."

"She was terribly frightened from her first brush with it." Aragorn glanced down at the sleeping woman.

There was a pause before Legolas spoke. "Perhaps it is for the best." At the man's confused expression he elaborated, "Fear will keep her from it. If she did not fear it, she might believe she could use it."

Understanding, Aragorn nodded. Someone they knew did not fear the Ring as much, and he had been all too eager to use it. If Lana remained afraid she might be less willing to take it.

"I was worried that this might happen. Something didn't feel quite right on the wind this morn." Aragorn sighed.

Legolas nodded in agreement. "I noticed it as well."

They remained silent for several moments. Legolas looked down again at Lana sleeping quietly, and then he glanced at his friend. "She finds peace with you," he noted aloud. A gentle smile touched his face.

Aragorn's answering smile held a faint teasing light. _"A' ah le." And with you_.

At Legolas' confused expression he continued. "You were both awake late into the evening last night. _Go-erui," Alone together._

Legolas smiled, oblivious to the man's teasing. "She wished to start anew. She told me about her world and I told her some of Mirkwood. And she showed me her drawings. _Maedeith." She is skilled._

Surprised but very pleased to hear this, Aragorn glanced down at Lana's sleeping face. At last, she was beginning to trust the elf. This was very good.

"She is quite pleasant when she is not afraid." Legolas continued, and then he lifted a brow. "How did you know we were awake yester eve?"

_"Cennin le ah he. Pennich 'daw vaer, Hiril Lana' he lam." I saw you with her. You said, 'good night, Lady Lana' in her tongue._

Both of the elf's brows lifted._"Cennich ammen? Dan manen? Lostannech." You saw us? But how? You slept._

Aragorn smirked. _"Aye, lostannen ab. Gerin osp." Yes, I slept later. I was having a smoke._

Legolas frowned then. _"Ú-lastannen le." I did not hear you._

Amused Aragorn replied. "Nay, you were too busy bidding the lady 'good night'."

At Legolas' baffled face, Aragorn chuckled. "I am teasing you, _mellon nín._ Though what she said must have kept your full attention for you to neither see nor hear me."

"She spoke of her home. It was of interest to me."

While this was the honest truth, Legolas found it troubling that he had been so unaware of the man's presence. The fact that any future friendship he might have with Lana could distract him was not good. He could not afford such things once they left the safety of the Golden Wood. He was in all essence the eyes and ears of the Fellowship.

Aragorn nodded knowing how Legolas enjoyed learning about new and distant lands. The smile slowly faded from his face however as his eyes rested once more on Lana.

"I fear for her. She has no idea what she will have to face."

"Nay, but we will prepare her," Legolas told him with confidence.

"Aye. I hope that is enough."

o0o

"Marie!"

Lana bolted upright, her heart hammering against her ribs. She looked about wildly until she recognized her tent. She was back in the campsite, but she didn't remember getting there. She frowned.

It was dark out and she realized that she had slept most of the day away and straight through her archery lesson.

Exhaling heavily she collapsed back into her pillows. With determination, she willed the nightmare away. Reoccurring dreams had been persistently bothering her since her arrival in Middle Earth, but she usually was able to stuff them away in the recesses of her mind. And none had woken her like this.

This one…she shuddered, trying to not think of it. It was as if her brush with the Ring had made her dreams darker and more potent. She was no stranger to vivid dreams. When she had returned from Afghanistan she had terrible PTSD. Now it seemed that it was back. She wanted to punch something in sheer frustration.

In this last dream, her dearest friend Marie had been with her. They had been running through the back streets of Kabul and into a tunnel, but the tunnel changed into Moria, and instead of insurgents chasing them it was orcs.

Marie had been brutally slaughtered by the orcs and Lana had been powerless to stop it for a chasm had suddenly opened between them. Her eyes rapidly filled with tears at the thought of her friend. Did Marie or Anna, or any of her friends or family realize that she was gone? Were the police out searching for her body? Was it her face that now filled the news headlines? And who was taking care of her cat?

Feeling a tightening in her chest she drew her knees close and rested her head on them. She missed them so much! Even her silly cat, Pangur Bán. Irrationally her eyes watered as she thought of white Angora.

"Are you well, lassie?"

Lana started at the voice and quickly rubbed her tears on her sleeve. Looking up she saw Gimli standing at the front of her tent.

"I'm fine. I just had ah…a bad dream."

She hated this—feeling so helpless and vulnerable. The last thing she needed was for her psychological symptoms to return. It had taken a year before she could rest peacefully at night. The PTSD had affected her severely and she had been on medication for several years. She had no desire for the symptoms to start up again.

"You do not look well. You look very pale." A second more musical voice joined the first.

Lana frowned as Legolas materialized beside Gimli. Had she been that loud? Was the whole Fellowship awake now?

Mentally growling she replied firmly. "Really, I'm fine. You can both go back to bed. I didn't mean to wake you up."

"I was not sleeping," Legolas admitted.

"Nor I," rumbled Gimli. "The night is young yet and I cannot rest." He peered at her. "Who is Marie?"

Lana sighed slowly and looked away. "She was…one of my best friends back home."

"You were dreaming of her?" Legolas inquired.

Nodding Lana pushed herself to her feet. She didn't want to discuss her dream or home right now. "I need to clear my head. I'm going for a walk." She announced grabbing her fleecy hoodie.

"I shall escort you," Gimli told her.

"And I as well," Legolas said.

Gimli pivoted towards the elf with a grumble that sounded almost like a growl. "I am capable of taking her for a walk without you, _pointy ears!"_

Legolas' eyes narrowed. "Perhaps she does wish for your company, _short one."_

Gimli did indeed growl this time and was about to retort before an annoyed Lana snapped, "I don't need an escort."

"Of course you do. You would prefer a stout dwarven warrior to this pointy eared whelp, wouldn't you?"

"I'd prefer it if you two would _get along!"_ She bit back. "I am sick and tired of listening to you two bicker all the time. I hear it all day and I don't intend to listen to it all night!"

The two went silent at her words. They glanced at each other, dislike still evident in their eyes. It was who Legolas spoke up first. "If we agree not to quarrel, will you allow us to accompany you?"

"And why would you want to?" Lana shot back testily.

"Because it is obvious that you are not well, lass. You dream terrible things and act as if nothing is wrong. We could help ease your mind." Gimli said logically.

Lana lifted an incredulous brow seriously doubting the dwarf's words. Yet as much as she wanted to push them away, she knew that having them around would, in fact, help chase away her dream. And that would be the best thing to stave off the effects of her PTSD. They might not be her friends from home, but they were the closest things she had here.

Besides, they seemed genuinely concerned about her welfare. And even though she wasn't ready to admit it, she needed them on some level. Deflating her lungs with her decision, she nodded curtly to them.

The outlandish trio walked through the woods of Lothlórien and had anyone looked they would have lifted a brow. An elf, a dwarf, and a mortal woman engaged in conversation; it was not a common sight in Lothlórien. Indeed, those that did observe it spoke of it for many years to come.

The trio discussed Lana's training, spoke of the weather, of their families—well at least Lana and Gimli did. Sharing a laugh at a story about her twin, Lana was actually surprised at how much she was enjoying the stroll. By the end of it, she was feeling much better.

Gimli and Legolas kept their word and did not quarrel though it was obvious that they wanted to, many times. It was with a heavy heart that Gimli returned to the camp first. His dwarven stamina wore out.

Legolas and Lana remained alone together for a short while. He found a lone yew tree in a clearing and started to climb up. He hoped to get a better view of the moon and stars. Lana watched him with amusement then decided to join him. It had been years since she last climbed a tree and she felt a strange sense of freedom doing it again.

Following Legolas, until she reached the top, she smiled at his grin and took his proffered hand. He pulled her up the rest of the way. She was unprepared for the sight that greeted her. The stars shone so brightly and the crescent moon hung like a grin in the sky. The combined light brushed the land in silver for many miles all around them.

_"Ithil_ and the _elanath_ shine brightly this eve," Legolas told her grinning softly up into the night sky.

He seemed to glow more brightly himself. Lana half wondered if it was her eyes tricking her or if he truly did shine.

"Is that Elvish?" She asked curiously.

"Aye, it is Sindarin."

"Sindarin?" She cocked her head.

"It is one of the many dialects of the Elvish tongue. I can speak three of them fluently."

Instantly curious she asked him which ones he knew. "Sindarin, Silvan, and Quenya," he replied.

"That's interesting. I didn't realize that the elves had different languages. But it makes sense. It's like how we have English, Italian, Arabic and so on in my world."

Sitting with her feet dangling off the branch she mimicked Legolas' intonation. _"Ithil,"_ She looked at him for confirmation.

He nodded, smiling kindly. "It means moon."

"And the other word? What does that mean?"

_"Elanath,_ it means stars. All are visible tonight." He said looking up.

"_Ithil_ and _elanath_…moon and stars," she repeated.

Legolas beamed at her. The sound of Sindarin rolling off her tongue made him unreasonably happy. He didn't bother to wonder why, though.

They talked for a bit about languages. Legolas was curious to learn that Lana knew a handful of languages from her world. She explained that she grew up in a multi-lingual environment. Linguistics had always been fascinating to her, and she had studied several languages in addition to the ones that were spoken in her home.

"I am passable in several languages. I'm fluent in Italian and Gaelic—and of course English. My mother is of Scots-Irish heritage and my father is Italian. But my brother and I were born in the US; hence our American accents." Her lips curved puckishly.

Legolas was intrigued and many questions he desired to give voice to, but he chose only one. He wanted to hear what Italian sounded like. Grinning Lana taught him how to say moon and stars in Italian.

His accent was pretty good, and she smiled broadly. _"Bravo!"_ She told him, clapping her hands.

Legolas grinned. "It is a lovely sounding language."

Lifting a brow mischievously she said,_ "É la lingua del sesso e cibo."_

He gave her a questioning look. "It is the language of love and food." She translated though she made it less vulgar than the actual meaning. She didn't feel like she knew Legolas well enough to translate it verbatim.

He grinned, enchanted by the saying. They sat in companionable silence until Lana shifted to look at him.

"Will you teach me?" At his confused look, she clarified. "Your language—the Elven tongue. It's so beautiful."

To say he was surprised was an understatement. Was this the same woman who had been so frightened of him and his people just days ago?

"You wish to learn it? It is not an easy language to master." He had difficulty keeping the shock and delight out of his voice.

Lana shrugged. "That doesn't matter. Believe it or not," she said with a playful tone. "New cultures interest me. If I'm stuck here in this world, I should probably make the best of it. I wish to learn—I mean if you wouldn't mind teaching me."

Legolas could hardly believe his ears. She appeared earnest in her request. He did not realize yet that her fears were quickly being supplanted by burgeoning curiosity about all things elven. Nor did he know that it was also a way for her to not dwell about her home. All he knew was the budding of delight that swelled in his breast.

He smiled brightly. "I would be honored to teach you,_ híril nín._ But tell me, do you truly wish to learn it because it is beautiful, or so that you may understand what Aragorn and I say about you?" He teased lightly.

Her lips curved into a curious smile. "Yes."

He laughed. "Ah, so you mean not to tell me which one?"

Her eyes gleamed with humor, but she didn't answer him. Instead, she started to descend. He followed behind her. She was waiting for him at the bottom. Gracefully he leapt to the ground, oblivious to her awed admiration of his agility. He gave her a questioning look, not understanding why she had left the tree.

"I'm finally tired. I'd like to rest." She supplied.

He nodded and walked her back to camp. They both shared a muted laugh at the sound of Gimli's snoring. Pausing before her tent, Lana looked up into his eyes.

"Thank you for the walk. Good night, Legolas."

He gave her a gracious nod. _"Mae idh_, Lana." At her baffled look, he translated for her. "Rest well."

A smile arced her lips. As she settled down into her tent she watched Legolas blend back into the trees. He was so different from everyone else in the group. Now that she knew him a bit better she could really see the contrasts.

When she had first met him, he had been very reserved and aloof. He reminded her of a svelte jungle cat, moving silently and always watching, listening. Disregarding the fact that he had shot at her in Moria, she found his protective loyalty to the company's protection rather inspiring. Nothing could get past him.

_Not even a wayward time-traveling, space-defying woman!_ Her lips quirked at the thought.

Yet when they had entered the Golden Wood, his whole demeanor changed. It was as though he shed the warrior revealing a being with intense curiosity. She was quite surprised at how candid he could be, but he was in no way childish. Well, with the exception of arguing with Gimli, but she couldn't fault him for that.

_It's not all that different from how Boromir and I squabble._ She grimaced and glanced at the man's sleeping form. Shaking her head she laid back on her pallet.

Now that her distrust of Legolas was subsiding she found that she actually really enjoyed his company. He was actually rather fun. In some ways, he reminded her of Joshua.

Joshua had been the one guy friend she had with whom she never had to worry about. He was incapable of ulterior motives. Josh was himself at all times. They would laugh, tease, and flirt with each other endlessly. Many times people thought they were a couple and those that knew otherwise said that they _should_ be one. However, they both knew they were nothing more than friends. And they were happy with that.

Josh made her feel safe. It seemed that Legolas would fill that role here. Smiling she let her body relax as her thoughts drifted aimlessly between friends old and new.

And this time, no nightmares plagued her.

* * *

_Thank you for reading! What did you think? I always enjoy hearing from you._


	12. Friends Always Stab From The Front

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.**

I make no claims on Tolkien's works. I also give credit to Cormak3032.

* * *

**Chapter 11: Friends Always Stab From the Front**

Aragorn was surprised to find Lana gone when he awakened the following dawn. It was a dark and dismal morning, and rain threatened to fall at any moment.

"Has no one seen her? How could she have disappeared?" He glanced at Legolas. _"Ú-cennich he?" You saw her not?_

Legolas shook his head negatively. "I saw her not."

"Able to escape without being noticed by an elf. _Hmmph!_ I always knew her to be a witch." Boromir groused uncharitably, crossing his arms over his chest.

Aragorn scowled at the man.

Frodo shared a look with Sam. "Surely she could not have gone far?" The Ring-bearer said. While he was not very friendly with Lana, he did not wish her ill.

"Someone must have seen her. The other elves perhaps?" Merry suggested.

Aragorn was prowling near her tent looking for tracks when Legolas suggested an idea. "We could ask Haldir. He is the protector of these woods."

Then the Mirkwood elf straightened suddenly, his head turning to the left. Aragorn turned at the same time in the same direction. A moment later he heard the sound of footfalls, followed by light laughter.

To the group's entire surprise, they saw Haldir escorting Lana back to the camp. The two were smiling brightly. Their faces were rosy from their merriment.

Aragorn rushed up to them immediately. _"Mae govannen, Haldir. Harthon he ú-geritha drasto." Well met, Haldir. I hope she did not cause trouble._

As distressed as he was, he was equally relieved.

Haldir smiled warmly, sensing the Ranger's concern. _"Nay, he ú-geritha drasto." No, she did not cause trouble._

"I wasn't any trouble if that's what you're asking," Lana said putting her hands on her hips and shooting Aragorn a mock glare.

Haldir laughed lightly at the display. "I discovered her running alone near the borders of the wood. I did not want her to stray too far."

Aragorn whirled on Lana. "What were doing at the border of the wood?" He demanded.

Lana's brows drew together. "Running," she said nonchalantly. What was the big deal? Everyone was staring at her like she committed some sort of crime.

"Why were you running _alone?"_ He demanded irately.

"I woke up early and couldn't go back to sleep. So I thought I would get a head start on the day." She was unsure of what the hell the Ranger was so uptight about.

Legolas frowned, wondering if the mortal woman's early morning had occurred because her sleep had been disturbed by more nightmares.

_"Hannon le,"_ Aragorn bid Haldir. _Thank you._

"Truly, Aragorn, she was no problem. She merely took a wrong turn on her path. I am glad I was nearby at the time."

The fair elf smiled fondly remembering how he had found the mortal woman running along and humming in a winded fashion. It was her music that had attracted his notice first. Despite being breathless, her voice had been surprisingly fair. When he waylaid her he had initially thought she would bolt into the woods like a scared animal. She had been so startled!

Their first encounter a few weeks ago had been quite awkward. But he had been pleasantly delighted to find that she was an amiable woman. Their walk back to the camp had been enjoyable for him.

Lana smiled up at the tall March Warden. "Haldir was very kind to escort me back," she said. "The trees all start to look the same after awhile." She laughed making light of her error.

Haldir dipped his head in a courtly way. "Should you ever desire a tour of the wood, _híril nín_, I would be more than happy to escort you."

"Thanks, I'll remember that."

"I have duties to attend to," Haldir announced. _"Navaer." Farewell. _Bowing once more he left the camp silently. Lana's eyes followed him warmly.

"You are lucky the elf found you." Gimli declared, disrupting her thoughts. "On the borders of the wood!"

Lana frowned, not understanding why everyone seemed so upset. "It was an accident." She reiterated. "I took a wrong turn; I didn't realize where I was. I'm sorry if I worried anyone."

"There are orcs and other foul creatures out in the lands beyond these woods. You would do well to remember that!" Aragorn snapped unforgivingly.

Lana blinked and withdrew from the man slightly. "I'm sorry,"

"If you are sorry—"

Aragorn's words began to sound distant, nearly fading away. Lana felt odd as if she was on some sort of high, but not a pleasant one. A ringing sounded in her ears and soon she heard that unnervingly deep voice. It was chanting incessantly in a foreign tongue that made her blood freeze.

Blinking slowly her gaze unwillingly slid from the Ranger to Frodo. He along with the rest of the company was avidly listening to her chastisement. But the Ring around the hobbit's neck held her attention. In the dimness of the overcast light, it seemed to glow unnaturally. With an effort, she lifted her eyes to Frodo's. Immediately he clutched the Ring and tucked it under his shirt. The voice, however, seemed to grow more relentless in her head.

"Lana?"

Aragorn grabbed her shoulder, startling her out of the trance. The dark voice faded away. Blinking, she felt as if reality suddenly rushed back into place with the force of a braking car. Everyone was staring at her.

Realizing what just happened, she exhaled sharply. Embarrassed and furious with herself she quickly went to her tent and grabbed her sword. Throwing a glance at Aragorn she said, "You know where to find me."

"Wha—where?" Gimli started, but the woman didn't acknowledge him or anyone else.

Aragorn felt a sinking feeling in his heart. He knew what happened. Glancing at Legolas they shared a look. Neither of them had been blind to what just occurred.

"She will not wander far. She needs some distance." Aragorn told the sputtering dwarf.

o0o

_Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!_ Lana growled snarled out loud as she swung her sword sharply. She was furious with herself. Once again that bloody _r__ing_ had caught and held her attention! She wanted nothing to do with it, but its power seemed insurmountable.

All the things Aragorn told her on how to get past its alluring presence had done nothing for her. She couldn't hold a single coherent thought once the chanting voice started its incantation. It was bizarre and unsettling. And it made her livid. She sliced the air again.

Then sighing deeply she stood still. "What a fucking day this is turning out to be," she grumbled to the trees. First she had gotten lost during her run, and Aragorn was pissed off at her, and now the Ring had won her attention. Lifting her sword she slashed at an imaginary foe. The metal whispered against the air.

Still feeling embarrassed she cut the air again. And again. Despite her career as a journalist, she didn't like to be the center of attention. Her job was to bring others into the spotlight. The fact that everyone had witnessed her blunder was so humiliating that she dreaded going back to camp.

And Aragorn…how she hated it when they were at odds! She was not naturally confrontational. At least, not when it came to herself and her actions. She could challenge others on their predilections or actions but was uncomfortable when hers were thrown into question. It was a fault. She knew it well, but to have everyone witness her mistake...

Lana sighed heavily. It upset her that she had disappointed Aragorn. She looked up to him, respected him, and even found him attractive in that rugged vagabond way. Thinking over her companions, she pondered again on how handsome they were. But she outright refused to let her attraction grow beyond respectful admiration. Then she shook her head. _What are you thinking now, moron?!_

She was not at all interested in pursuing a love interest in this world! Why was she evening having this conversation with herself? Annoyed she thrust her blade forward.

For all Gandalf said of her living and dying in this world, she still believed otherwise. There was a way home. She just had to find it. _And get off this ludicrous quest!_

Looking up she saw a group of elves walking by some distance away. They were dressed in flowing robes and cloaks. They seemed to glide over the ground as if friction had no affect on them. They ignored her but she was certain they were well aware of her presence.

As she watched them move on she thought about how she had changed. No longer did the elves intimidate her—well, at least not to the point of petrifying her. She found them highly fascinating and wished she could actually explore their city more.

The elves were incredible beings. Beautiful, graceful, and blessed with superior senses—and immortality to boot! They were unlike anything she had ever encountered.

The group in the distance were all fair like Legolas and Haldir. It seemed to be an elf meant being towheaded. She had glimpsed only a few with light brown hair. They were all tall and lithe, with features that would have made the Renaissance masters swoon.

Her thoughts pivoted back to the March Warden. He had been very pleasant, friendly even. She would not have thought that given his dour first impression. When he had appeared in her path, he had frightened the living daylight out of her. He was a formidable individual—highly striking, like all his kind. He was broader than Legolas though, and his hair more silvery than golden.

When he spoke his deep voice sent shivers down her spine. It was liquid velvet. As he guided her back to camp, however, her tension slipped away and they had enjoyed a rather pleasant conversation. It seemed to Lana, that Haldir enjoyed teasing her. His dry humor was something she could appreciate for it was like her own.

Sighing she gripped her sword again. She whirled to try an attack combination that Aragorn taught her two days prior. It was much to her surprise when a sword clashed against hers.

Expecting Aragorn she was put off to see that it was Boromir who stood opposite her. With an exasperated huff, she pushed off of him.

"What do you want, _Captain_ America?" She quipped sardonically.

"I merely wish to test your skills. Is that so wrong?" He sneered.

She looked him up and down skeptically. "Test my skills," she echoed sardonically.

"Aye. You and Aragorn disappear for several hours each day. Surely he has taught you something by now. Show me what you have learned, oh-mighty-warrior." He taunted.

She scowled at him as he laughed. Seeing that she refused to engage, he goaded her further. "Or are you too afraid?"

Her eyes narrowed to slits of fury. "I'm not afraid. Least of all of _you_."

She put both hands to the hilt of her weapon. Ignoring the warning in her head that crossing swords with this man might be a bad idea, she focused all her energy on giving him a thorough thrashing. She was sick and tired of his contempt for her. She _would_ teach him a lesson!

Their swords clashed and she smiled slightly to see him rethink his strategy. She was more skilled than he initially thought. However, what began as a test of aptitude grew to be much more.

Boromir drove her viciously; no quarter was given. The man was far superior to her in strength and skill, and it was no small miracle that she managed to keep up with him for as long as she did. However, Lana felt herself tiring. Quickly.

There was a peculiar look in Boromir's eyes that made her quite alarmed. She had seen similar expressions before. And they never led to anything good.

"I want…to…stop…" she panted. Her arms were shaking. Boromir did not relent though. If anything he pushed harder. It was like he sensed her weakness. "Boromir! Please! Stop!" She pleaded. Fear bloomed in her stomach. She jumped away from him, but he followed doggedly.

"It's _mine!"_ He snarled.

She started at the tone of his words. She was about to ask him what the hell he was going on about when he brought his sword down hard against hers. Instantly she was disarmed, her sword wrenched painfully from her hands. Defenseless she tried to twist out of the way, but he came after her. She lifted her hands in surrender, but his sword continued its arc. A sharp pain struck Lana.

She screamed out in shock as well as agony. Glancing down at her right hand she saw blood pouring out of gash that spanned the entire width of her palm. The gaping wound made her feel suddenly woozy. Bright red blood covered her hand and dripped down her arm. The feel of the air on her open wound made it sting fiercely. But she merely stared in shock at the yawning lesion. Her heart thudded loudly in her ears.

Boromir let out a hurried breath. His eyes grew wide. What had he done? "I'm sorry, I did not mean—" He started towards her.

Lana instantly drew back, her eyes huge. "No! Get the fuck away from me you fucking bastard!" She cried out.

Fury and fear warred in her body as she back peddled. Yet as she kept retreating Boromir kept advancing. He tried in vain to pacify her, words blundering from his mouth. Her whole body shook with the residual effects of adrenaline, pain, and fear. The man was a lunatic!

Boromir continued to move towards Lana now intending only to help mend the situation when an arrow crossed directly in front of him. It buried itself into a nearby tree. He eyed the arrow in dumbfounded disbelief. The feathered end was still vibrating from the impact.

He recognized the arrow and was not surprised to see Legolas standing along the tree line. Another arrow was notched on his string. Gimli stood by him, his ax raised.

Boromir swallowed glancing at the arrow again. It had come dangerously close to hitting him. That, without a doubt, had been Legolas' intention. It was a warning. If the elf had wanted him dead, he would not be standing.

"It was an accident…I…we…" Boromir found that his words did not work but were tripping on his tongue.

Looking down at his sword he saw the red stain glinting in the sunlight. His hand trembled and he dropped the weapon on the ground. With horror, he realized what he had done.

"Are you alright, lass?" Gimli asked, trotting up to Lana's side.

Legolas remained at the tree line, his bow still cocked and ready. His pale blue eyes had not left Boromir's form. He tracked the man as if he were an enemy—dangerous and unpredictable.

"My hand is bleeding," Lana said numbly. Her body continued to quiver with the aftershocks of the attack.

"I did not mean to do it," Boromir moaned to no one in particular. He was shaking his head back and forth. Confusion and alarm settled into his features.

"You had best go back to camp, lad," Gimli told the man stiffly. "You've done enough here."

Nodding, Boromir swallowed. His mouth felt dry. His sword missed his scabbard several times before he was able to sheath it. His hands were shaking nearly as much as Lana's body. On trembling legs, he turned towards the camp

The woman's hand was gushing blood and it was his entire fault. The worst part was he didn't even know how it had happened. He could feel Legolas watching his every move with loaded bow.

_How did this happen?_ He looked around wildly. With a cry of anguish, he fled from the scene.

Gimli frowned as he watched the man go, but he let his thoughts lie. Turning back to Lana he held out his hands. "Let me have a look."

She hesitated, then Lana gingerly held out her injured hand. She winced as she attempted to open it. The motion caused the wound to gape open and pain lanced through her palm. She hissed and closed her fingers quickly. Blood was dripping down the side of her hand and between her fingers.

"I'm sorry, lass. I didn't mean to cause you further discomfort," he told her.

Legolas rushed over to them now that Boromir had gone. His bow was still in hand, but the arrow was back in his quiver. Kneeling down next to Gimli he assessed the situation quickly.

"It appeared as if he meant to strike you down," he said peering at her worriedly.

"I…I don't know what happened. I didn't do _anything_… He—he wanted to see my skills and the next thing I knew he was attacking me outright. He knocked the sword out of my hands and…"

She swallowed and looked at her hand. The sight of her own blood was almost too much for her. A memory long buried surfaced and she had a bizarre feeling that was not quite déjà vu, but almost. In her head, she could hear cruel laughter and felt a harsh touch that she had tried many times to purge from her memory.

"It wasn't my fault," she went on murmuring. "I didn't do anything wrong…"

_I was just doing what I was supposed to do…I was trying to do my job…I'm a journalist…_

"Your hand needs to be treated," Legolas told her interrupting her spiraling thoughts.

She watched him as he reached for the hem of his tunic and without a second thought he ripped a strip from the beautiful fabric. With great care, he took her right hand into his. Focusing on his strong yet gentle fingers, Lana tried to calm her rapidly fraying nerves. She took great big gulping breaths, fighting demons of past and present.

Legolas glanced at her with concern but knew her wound had to be tended immediately. She winced as he gently pried her fingers open to wrap her palm. The elf could hear how she gritted her teeth to withstand the pain as he bound the injury tightly with the cloth.

He frowned at how badly she was trembling. Her face was alarmingly pallid. She was no doubt frightened, but the intensity of her fear worried him. Tying off the ends of the makeshift bandage he grimaced as she winced. "Forgive me," he murmured softly. "This will have to do until we reach camp,"

"Let us return," Gimli said rising. "So that we may sort out this mess."

Lana inhaled sharply and blinked. She glanced at her hand, which was rapidly turning the fabric red. "Ok," she murmured numbly.

She tried to stand, but she immediately fell over. Legolas and Gimli rushed to help her up. Hysterical laughter bubbled up from her throat. Her face was as pale as a swan feather and her eyes were glassy and unfocused. With care, they assisted her to her feet.

Babbling she to keep her mind distracted, she said, "Fun fact: the human body has roughly ten pints of blood in it. I wonder how much of _mine_ is on the grass _now_."

Her lips twisted into a perturbed smile as she stared at the stains on the grass under her feet. She didn't seem to notice Legolas or Gimli at her sides. Her wavering steps alarmed both the dwarf and elf.

"Are you well enough to walk?" Gimli grabbing her elbow quickly.

Lana didn't reply. Her entire body was visibly quaking now. As she wobbled unsteadily, she threw out her left arm as if the brace herself, though nothing was near. When it looked like she might faint, Legolas did not hesitate to slide one arm beneath her knees and the other around her shoulders. Effortlessly he picked her up. The fact that she did not protest bothered him. He shared a look with Gimli who was equally worried. The dwarf retrieved Lana's sword and in silence he followed the elf back to their camp.

Moments later Aragorn came charging through the woods meeting them halfway. He was instantly alarmed when he saw Lana in Legolas' arms.

"What happened?" He demanded, his dread making his voice sharp. "It was Boromir, was it not?"

Gimli nodded gravely. "I'm afraid this be his work."

Aragorn looked to Lana. Her eyes were squeezed shut as she buried her face against Legolas' chest. Her head was resting just beneath the elf's chin. Intermittent tremors ran through her body.

"How serious is it?"

"He cut her hand deeply, but she will live. Although she is terribly frightened." Legolas told the man.

Aragorn released a sigh of relief. The injury was not deadly. "Let us get her comfortable so we can attend to her wound."

It started to rain lightly on their return to the camp. As the white tents came into view the rain became heavier and a low fog moved in. Frodo and Sam watched with wide-eyed trepidation from their tent as the group returned with Lana.

Merry and Pippin were immediately up and asking questions despite the wet weather. They stood just beyond her tent as Legolas set her down inside. Gimli hedged the hobbits' questions as best he could.

Lana was still shaking slightly, but her eyes were open now and she was aware of her surroundings. Legolas noticed how she clenched her injured wrist tightly, almost protectively against her breast. It was bleeding through the ersatz bandage. Rivulets of red blood trickled down her wrist and onto her shirtfront.

He leaned over her and gently brushed the damp hair from her face. He spoke soothingly in Sindarin as he drew one of the blankets over her body. He was pleased to see her relax a little.

_"Idh,"_ he told her. She nodded in understanding. Giving her a comforting smile he rose and went to stand beside Aragorn who was waiting impatiently out in the rain.

"We need bandages," Legolas told him.

Aragorn nodded. Then drawing the elf further away from the others, he asked in Sindarin, _"What happened out there? Boromir returned in a dreadful state. He couldn't even talk."_

They both looked at the Gondorian man. He sat on a root on the edge of their camp getting drenched. Oblivious to the downpour he held his head in his hands. Anguish emanated from him.

"I understand not all that has come to pass," Legolas replied in Common, his voice soft. "I only know that something felt wrong. An evil was stirring in my mind. When I heard the clashing of swords I went to see what was taking place. Gimli accompanied me and we together we discovered Boromir and Lana sword fighting."

Legolas frowned as he recalled the fight. "He was vicious and struck her with his sword. He continued to move toward her with his blade still in hand. I feared that he would strike her again so I intervened."

Aragorn lowered his voice further. "It is good that you did or she might not be alive."

Legolas started and stared at the Ranger. _"Nauthoch ho geri dangen he?"_ He queried in hushed dread. _You believe he would have slain her?_

Aragorn sighed as he cast his eyes downward. _"Harthon ú-non forn. Dan…în paid geri raeg an lû. Grogan i gorf." I hope I am not right. But…his ways have been wrong for a time. I fear it is the Ring._

Legolas nodded grimly.

_"Ú-cerin Boromir erui ah pen, _edregol_ Frodo."_ The man said emphatically. _I do not want Boromir left alone with anyone, _especially_ Frodo._

_"Henion." I understand._

"I will see about the bandages, and perhaps a healer if the Lady can spare one. _Dartha ah he, mellon nín?_" _Stay with her, my friend?_

Legolas nodded. Aragorn left swiftly then. Gimli was standing protectively outside Lana's tent, his heavy battle-ax was held with both hands.

"No one will get passed me to harm the lass," he said with conviction.

He had grown quite fond of the strange women, and it did not sit well with him that one of their own had attacked her. He was a dwarf of conviction and possessed a strong moral compass. It did not matter that a thin common ground that had developed between him and the elf. Gimli would not allow harm to befall Lana again. And no one would pass to her tent without his leave.

"None other than me, Master Dwarf," Legolas replied with a dark look. "Aragorn wishes me to stay with her."

Gimli grunted but begrudgingly allowed the elf to pass. Lana had remained lying where Legolas had left her. Her hair rippled like liquid gold as it spilled from her now loose braid. There was some color back in her skin, but she still looked too pale for his comfort.

Kneeling beside her, Legolas looked her over disquietly. He felt compelled to brush back the hair that hung in front of her face, but he was certain she would not approve of such an action.

"Are you well?" He asked in a low voice.

Lana licked her dry lips. "I…I think so. Yes. I'm fine…I'll be fine."

Legolas had to admire her tenacity. She strove to be brave despite her obvious scare. A concerned smile touched the corner of his lips. "You worried Gimli and myself."

"I'm sorry. I…I guess I went into shock." She dropped his gaze as her mind went to places he knew naught of.

Legolas could sense turmoil within her. She was battling with demons that had he known them, he would have burned with righteous anger. These dark thoughts shimmered through her body even now. His lips fell.

"Something more plagues you," he observed.

Lana glanced at him sharply.

"Something troubles you, and not all of it has to do with what passed between you and Boromir in the wood. There is a connection to it. I feel it…there is something more."

Lana inhaled unsteadily, her brows drawing together defensively. "What do you mean you 'feel it'?"

"Elves can sense emotions easily. You are hiding something though I know not what."

He stared intently not aware of how intense his gaze could be. Lana looked away nervously. She seemed to curl up on herself. He could feel her throwing up a wall between them.

"I don't want to talk about it," she said in a defiant tone even as her body language spoke of anxiety.

Legolas nodded cordially, respecting her wishes. They were not yet close enough for him to press her for answers. Though it saddened him to see her re-erecting the barriers between them. Their fledgling friendship seemed to be going backward.

Lana gripped the wrist of her injured hand. The tattooed _'invictus'_ was smeared with her blood. The improvised bandage from Legolas' tunic was thoroughly soaked through.

"Looks like we won't be having any archery lessons anytime soon," she attempted lightly. She didn't like the tension between them any more than he did.

"Nay. But you should be able to continue sword lessons with Aragorn since you can learn to wield a sword with one hand, but there will be no lessons between us."

Lana looked up, her eyes looking bluer than he had ever seen them. "What about the Elvish lessons?"

"You wish to start so soon?"

Lana shrugged nonchalantly. "Sure, why not?"

A bubble of joy welled up in his chest. Perhaps not all was lost between them. He marveled at the notion of a mortal wishing to learn the language of his people. Even more wondrous was how quickly she seemed to be leaving her fears of him behind. It was as if she was in a hurry to make up for time lost between them. While Legolas could not say they were close, he was delighted by the offering of her friendship.

"We will begin as soon as you feel you are well enough."

She nodded slowly. Legolas watched with interest as she glanced away from him, almost shyly. Her cheeks started turning pink and he sensed remorse. Her moods rose and fell like a tide.

"Thank you for saving me from Boromir," she murmured.

Instantly he realized that she was embarrassed. "It was no trouble. He will not harm you again. We all will make certain of that."

"Thank you."

_"Hannon le,"_ he told her. She met his eyes in confusion. "It means 'thank you' in Sindarin."

A lovely smile curved her lips."_Hannin le,"_

_"Han-non,"_ he corrected.

_"Hannon le,_ Legolas."

He nodded joyfully. For a moment, they regarded each other in silence. Lana now stared at him openly, her eyes roaming his features. The attack caused her to become hyper aware of things she hadn't really observed before. She saw Legolas every day and yet…she hardly stopped to notice just how _beautiful_ he was. Back home she knew plenty of stunning men, and quite a few who wore their hair long. Legolas' was like very fine silk and pale gold in color. However, he wore his in braids, and she wondered if that was significant.

Legolas was mutually studying her features. Her flaxen hair was darker than his own—more yellow, almost like honey in some parts. His own was pale and washout by comparison, or so he thought. He liked the rich tones of her hair.

He knew that when the sun hit it just right it shone with a multitude of shades from the palest gold to the darkest amber. In fact, the deepest layers were nearly brunette. But where the sun kissed it, her hair shone like living gold.

Turning his focus to her face he studied her eyes. They were blue, but not like his kin's. Hers were a deep blue, like the evening sky—or the heart of a sapphire. They were highly expressive eyes, and he was very intrigued by them. Had he known then what he would discover later, he would have said that her eyes were the color of the ocean. And they held just as much mystery.

As it was though, he could only make comparisons with what he knew. He wondered what went on behind her veiled looks. He did not know her well enough to read the emotions that skittered across her eyes. But he could sense vague sentiments. At the moment, she appeared more at peace but he knew that her inner turmoil had been buried rather than dealt with. He hoped that in time she would further confide in Aragorn.

She seemed to trust the Ranger more than anyone. It would be good for her to open up her heart and unburden herself. Only then would she find some peace he knew. Strangely, Legolas found himself wishing her all the peace he could offer. It was a foreign feeling and one he did not quite understand. Slightly disturbed, he ignored the sentiment since he didn't know what to do with it.

It was unfortunate that she arrived in Middle Earth in such dire times, he mused instead. He watched as her eyes trailed over his hair, then his face, and many times to his ears. Internally he smiled at that. It was hard for him to comprehend that there were no elves in her world. He was the first she had ever seen or met, and he was honored for the privilege.

"You handled the sword well against Boromir. He is more than a worthy opponent," he told her, breaking the silence.

His words caused her to smile self-deprecatingly. "Really? You think so?"

"Aye."

Her smile became more genuine. _"Hannon le_ for the compliment."

Legolas chuckled, bemused by her combination of Sindarin and Common Tongue. His humor faded as he heard the ensuing ruckus beyond the tent. The peaceful quiet moment between them was shattered by the concerned voices of two young hobbits.

"Well, how is she doing?"

"Can we see her?"

"Is she well enough to have visitors?"

Legolas rose to regard Merry and Pippin. Gimli was trying to shoo them away, but they wouldn't have any of it. The dwarf turned to him in exasperation.

"You may visit with her, but do not stay long," the elf told them. "She requires rest. Aragorn will return soon, hopefully with a healer to dress her wound."

The hobbits nodded and rushed into the tent, ignoring Gimli's protests completely, and practically shoving the dwarf out of their way. They sat beside the mortal woman, both of the effusing with worry and questions.

Legolas left them in silence, hardly noticed as he stepped away. Patting Gimli's shoulder, he stood beside the dwarf in the rain that continued to fall. They watched Boromir for a time. The man could hardly endure their stares and he retreated to his tent trying to block out the world.

Gimli glanced up at Legolas, leaning on his ax. "Darkness is tempting his soul."

The elf nodded solemnly.

"He believes he can use the Ring to save his people," the dwarf continued.

"He would only destroy them," Legolas replied with surety.

"Aye, we know that. We can fight the temptation of the Ring. Why can't he?"

Legolas remained silent pondering the question. "I know not. We can only aid in preventing it from consuming him. And Lana."

Gimli looked up with worry in his deep brown eyes. "I fear for the lad…and the lass," he added. "He gives into temptation far too easily. And she is not of this realm. She tries to fight it but will she win?"

"I cannot see the future, Gimli. I know not what will occur."

"And here I was thinking that all pointy ears had the gift of foresight!" Gimli goaded, but with good-humor.

Legolas smiled faintly. Their levity was short-lived, though.

"Only when we succeed in our quest will there be peace. For them and the rest of us." The dwarf said.

Legolas nodded mutely.

* * *

_Thank you for your kind compliments! As always your comments, critics, and thoughts are greatly appreciated. _


	13. Language Lessons and Departure

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story. **

I make no claim to Tolkien's works_._ I also give credit to Cormak3032.

A note: I am no expert on Tolkien's elven languages. Even though I have a book and have studied it off and on for years. For the most part, the Sindarin I've been using is exactly the same as Cormak's. However, I have found to be incredibly useful when searching for certain words (weird spacing there because this site doesn't like URLs of any kind!). My Sindarin grammar is undoubtedly atrocious, so if anyone is good at it and has corrections for me, let me know!

And as always, thanks for reading!

* * *

**Chapter 12: Language Lessons and A Departure**

Sleep proved to be elusive. It felt like days instead of hours before the morning came. The evening before an elven healer had tended Lana's hand and Aragorn had wrapped the injury expertly. Thankfully the wound was not deep so much as it was long. It didn't need stitches. But it had bled a lot, and she was cautioned against exerting herself too much over the next few days.

Whatever the healer had put on her hand had numbed the searing pain to a dull ache. If she kept her hand still it didn't even hurt. So it wasn't pain that had kept her awake during the night.

Her restless mind was bombarded by memories and feelings that she struggled to suppress. She stared for a long time at the white canvas of her tent trying to stop the deluge of her mind. She even listened to her iPhone for a while until she grew bored. All too soon the device needed to be charged.

The simple task of rummaging through her backpack was complicated by the fact that her hand screamed at her if she moved it too much. And she was right handed so now everything was immensely difficult. At last she pulled the portable charger out and plugged in the phone.

What she really wanted to do was go take a walk but that was out of the question. Firstly she might get lost again. Secondly it was still raining, and finally Legolas was _still_ awake.

She didn't want to alarm him or anyone else if she suddenly got up and left. And she didn't want company. Or rather she didn't want to talk. So she lay there in her canvas bastille doing her best to remain silent. To amuse herself she picked out shapes in the shadows that played on the tent walls, and mentally recited the poems she knew by heart.

For a time she watched her sleeping companions hoping her own body would be inspired. Gimli sored away like a freight train. It never ceased to astound her that he didn't wake himself with all that rumbling every night. Pippin and Merry were sprawled in their tent. Pippin mumbled incoherently in his sleep. Lana would smirk each time she heard the peckish hobbit say something about food.

Frodo appeared to be awake. From her angle, she could see him but he couldn't see her. She noticed that he was holding something in his hands. Grimacing she looked away. The sinister aura seemed to multiple around him now that she knew what it was he possessed. A sour feeling knotted in her stomach.

Sam was sleeping at Frodo's feet. The gentle-hearted hobbit slept soundly. It seemed that Frodo did not appreciate his friend's devotion to him, but who was she to judge? What did she know of hobbits or their culture after all?

Looking towards Aragorn, she saw him sleeping between two giant roots of a tree that cut through his tent. It didn't look particularly comfortable but the man could apparently find rest anywhere; a rare skill that she now envied. The Ranger had been restless as well, but unlike her he now slept soundly.

Risking a glance in Legolas' direction she saw that he was still in the same position he had been for hours. He sat leaned against a tree under his tent grazing out into the rain. She wondered what he found so fascinating. Initially, she thought he fell asleep sitting up but then realized that he was indeed awake. The subtle shifts of his head indicated he was paying attention.

Lana didn't look at Boromir. She knew he was awake but didn't want to be bothered with him. Not right now. She needed time.

As morning came lightly on the gray feet of a fog, the quiet chatter of birds made the camp stir slightly. The rain continued to fall, letting up occasionally, but never ceasing completely. The mist grew thick and it blocked Lana's view of the trees. Depressed, she sighed staring at the top of her tent again. Images of home flashed through her mind.

"Good morning."

Startled she looked up to see Legolas just outside her tent. The fair elf was standing in the drizzle not in the least bit bothered by the water soaking his hair and clothes. He was smiling and looked as chipper as if it was sunny and beautiful out.

Lana immediately sat up and gathered her profusion of blankets so she could offer him a place to sit.

"Good morning; here, come in out of the rain before you catch a cold." She smiled at him.

Legolas' lips quirked. "Your concern is well meant, but not necessary. Elves do not become ill as mortals do."

She lifted a brow, then smirked dryly. "Why am I not surprised," she retorted with amiable sarcasm.

He grinned and entering the tent, took a seat on the ground beside her. His eyes moved over her face, the smile fading a bit. "You did not sleep."

She exhaled and gave him a dry look. "Did anyone ever tell you that you know way too much?"

"Nay, my knowledge is not so great; only my awareness of what is happening around me at all times."

She gave him another cynical look. "Well, then you are _aware_ of too much, elf."

Legolas curved with knowing humor. "You have not denied my words."

She snorted at his silliness. "No, and I have no intention of denying them because you're right." She exhaled deeply, her amusement fading. "I didn't sleep at all."

Legolas looked at her bound injury. "Your hand does not pain you greatly, but your mind does."

Lana shifted uneasily and ran her good hand through her hair. Encountering tangles she grimaced and quickly twisted the riotous locks back into a ponytail. Not an easy feat with an injured hand. Annoyed when it spilled all over the place again, she tried once more.

"Allow me," Legolas offered.

She wanted to push his help away—and nearly did but she relented knowing she would look like a wild woman unless he did this for her. She hated it. She didn't want to look weak in front of him. And she didn't like how he seemed to sense what bothered her—even if it was vague.

"Thank you," she murmured when he had finished.

She did not know that Legolas had also felt very strange about this simple action as well. He had felt oddly tempted to brush out her hair and braid it back properly. The idea confused him and he was glad when she spoke again.

"Legolas, look, I didn't want to discuss it last night and that hasn't changed today. So let's just drop it."

Giving in he nodded. "Forgive me. I am merely concerned."

"I appreciate your concern, but as you said about becoming ill, 'your concern is well meant but not necessary.' I'm fine."

Legolas could sense otherwise. Inexplicably he was rather hurt that she would hide this from him. Why this bothered him so made no sense. Their friendship was still too new for him to insist on such a level of openness. He could only hope that she would at least confide in the Ranger. It would do her no good to keep her emotions suppressed.

"Are you going to start teaching me Elvish today?" She asked quickly changing the subject

"If you so desire it."

"I do. It's a perfect day for it. It's raining."

He consented. "Very well."

Her genuine smile seemed to brighten the very air around them. So while their companions slept on, Legolas began to teach Lana the rudiments of his language. First he taught her some common words. She had him write a vocabulary list in her sketchbook. The notebook she owned was ruined, but she didn't want to show him that. It would make him feel terrible.

As he wrote down the list she was not at all surprised to see that his handwriting was neat and perfect. He taught her how to pronounce the words and she carefully spelled them out phonetically next to the words he wrote down.

Writing was a challenge, but she insisted that she do it. It helped commit the words to her memory she said. Although it hurt her hand a lot. Her handwriting looked terrible as well. But she didn't let it stop her.

They practiced vocabulary and rudimentary grammar for a couple hours, oblivious to the camp awakening around them. Sam, Merry and Pippin listened for a while. They soon grew bored and started discussing home and food. Frodo was consumed with his own thoughts as usual.

Aragorn could hear them speaking in hushed voices and he was pleased to see Lana so interested in the Elven tongue. It was good that she was bridging her fears at last.

As for Boromir, he lay in his tent facing away from his companions. Sleep had never come to him. In his head, he replayed over and over what he had done. Tormented by the images of yesterday and by thoughts of Gondor…and the Ring… he was still confused and felt unprepared to face the world.

"How can anyone be expected to sleep with that racket?" A voice boomed over the camp irritably.

It echoed off the giant mallorn trees. Startled, Lana and Legolas looked up to see Gimli standing outside her tent in the light drizzle.

"Our apologies, Master Dwarf. We attempted to be as quiet as possible." Legolas told him curbing his annoyance.

Gimli grunted. "What is this nonsense? Laughing and talking—and I'm certain I heard Elvish words. Are you trying to convert her to be an elf?"

Legolas lips curved into a smug grin. Lana laughed outright at the suggestion. "I don't think I have what it takes to be an elf, Gimli."

"Humph! Learning _Elvish_…nonsense if you ask me."

Legolas bit back a tart remark, knowing Lana would disapprove. He wanted to continue building their friendship, although it cost him to keep his lips sealed. As for Lana, she was still smiling at the dwarf, more bemused by his complaining than annoyed.

"Where is this rain coming from? I thought the weather was always fair in this land," Gimli continued.

Listening as he smoked his pipe, Aragorn released a puff of curling smoke before speaking. "The elves are preparing to leave the eastern shores. Their power over the land is diminishing."

Gimli frowned, but it was Lana who spoke up. "What do you mean they are leaving? Are they moving to a new country?" She asked.

He nodded. "They travel to a land that mortals cannot venture to. They will leave from the Grey Havens and sail west to the Undying Lands—to Valinor—never to return to Middle Earth."

Floored Lana blinked. "Whoa, what—" She turned to Legolas. "You're going to leave?"

"Not today or anytime soon, but someday I will leave with my kin when the Call of the Sea becomes too strong for me to resist. But do not fear; I have not yet heard its song. Nor I am yet ready to leave this world." He reassured her.

Sailing was of little matter to him. In his mind, it would be centuries before he was ready. And in that time all here will have passed away into dust. A sobering thought.

Lana recalled what little Legolas had told her about Valinor, but she assumed that it was a spiritual place—a heaven of sorts. Not an actual land. She had thought that "sailing" was a euphemism for death. The fact that this place was real and that Legolas would be leaving one day disturbed her far more than she cared to admit. And the feeling surprised her.

When no further conversation arose, they returned to Sindarin lessons. However, Lana's mind seemed to be elsewhere. When Legolas spoke to her, her replies were delayed.

_"Man presta le?_ Lana?"

"Huh? What?" She blinked focusing on him.

"What troubles you? _Man presta le?"_ He asked and immediately translated the question into Sindarin. She turned her eyes away. "Speak to me. _Pedo an nin."_

She looked at the sketchbook in her lap then at him. He could sense hurt emanating from her. Had he done something to offend her? Growing concerned, he probed, "Lana, what is it?"

She grimaced. "You're leaving us." She gave him a truly sad look that said more than her words.

Clearly the thought of him sailing distressed her. This small fact proved to him that their friendship was growing by leaps and bounds as if it was trying to make up for lost time. While this delighted him, her sudden melancholy caused him to worry.

"Did you not hear what I said? I am not leaving for a long time. You will have passed on before I venture west."

She gave him a wry face. "I sometimes forget that you're immortal and that you'll just keep on…living." She held his gaze and noticed that he now appeared despondent.

"Immortality is not always a gift," he murmured softly, his eyes seeing things hers could not as a memory was stirred in his mind. "There are some elves who believe it to be a curse and mortality the gift." He looked back into her eyes. "Men are allowed to die and leave this world. But we elves must endure until we grow tired, bitter, and weary with life. We will watch our mortal friends perish, and yet we must linger on until the ending of this world."

He looked so despairing that Lana swore she could feel it radiating off of him. She wished she could do something to comfort him. If he had been one of her close friends she would not have hesitated to gather him up into a hug. But as it was, she didn't know Legolas that well. And she certainly didn't feel comfortable enough to hug him. But it was her fault he was feeling this way. She had unwittingly stuck her thumb into an emotional wound, as it were.

Forcing a smile, she reached out opting to cover his hand with her own. "I'm glad you won't be leaving for a long time," she told him sincerely.

Feeling the warmth of her hand, Legolas glanced down to witness her fingers covering his. Like winter snow under a spring sun, her concern and this small act of comfort melted the sadness in his heart. Lana's simple gesture buoyed his spirits. It pleased him to know that she valued their burgeoning friendship.

"So am I," he said softly.

Turning his hand over he squeezed her hand gently. If the rest of his time on Middle Earth were spent in the company of mortals like Lana and Aragorn, he would consider himself blessed by the Valar.

Feeling a little odd, Lana cleared her throat and withdrew her hand to tuck some loose hair behind her rounded ear. "Shall we continue?"

"Aye," Legolas said, his tone returning to its usual happiness. "I shall speak to you in Common and then follow it with the Sindarin translation. In this way, you will learn the words and how they go together a bit quicker."

She nodded. "Sounds like a plan."

"Shall we learn a few verbs?"

"Sure."

Writing in her sketchbook, Legolas gave her a list of common verbs and their various endings. He taught her that when there was a verb and one was speaking in the first person, then the verb ended with the letter 'n'.

_"Hanno_ is the verb 'to thank' and the 'n' on the end means 'I thank.'"

Understanding she nodded. "Ok, 'n' for first person. So if I wanted to say 'I speak'?"

He wrote pedi on her verb list. _"Pedi_ means 'to speak,'"

"So, _pedin?"_

"Aye. Well done. _Mae carnen."_

They practiced a few more verbs, teaching her the second person endings.

_"Dregich._ You flee. _Bedich_. You go. _Gerich._ You have."

Legolas smiled brightly. "Aye._ Mae carnen_. You learn quickly."

_"Hannon le,"_ she said with accented airs. She couldn't hold the act though and broke into an amused smile. Legolas grinned warmly at her. "Can you write me a list of common phrases?"

"If it will please you,_ hiril nín,"_ he said, playing along with her

"It will."

"Then it shall be done."

They continued to practice until Lana began to feel overwhelmed. She was ambitious, but it was only the first lesson. It wouldn't be good to have too much. As if sensing her thoughts Legolas said, "Perhaps we should cease for today. I should give you time to look over that which we have discussed."

Lana nodded her eyes still running over the words in her sketchbook. "Yeah, that's probably a good idea." She looked up at him. "I was doing well at the beginning, but I think I'm trying to bite off more than I can chew." Her wry smile lit her face in self-depreciating humor.

"Forgive me if I have given you too much. It is heavy work learning a new tongue."

Lana laughed at the idea that this was too much work. "It's no more than my professors would give me at university. Heck, it's nothing compared to what I had to do as a journalist." She grinned brightly. "This is more fun than crunching statistics for a news story."

He gave her a baffled look. "Statistics?"

"Uh, never mind. You're better off not bothering with that." She grinned mischievously. _"Hannon le,_ for all your help today."

_"Mae buiannen._ Well served," he smiled. He turned then, concentrating on the sounds of the camp. "The rain has stopped and the others are preparing for breakfast. We should help."

Nodding she put her sketchbook away. All throughout breakfast and into her lesson with Aragorn, Lana could hear Legolas' voice in her mind. Elvish words floated through her brain distracting her. She repeated them over and over again. The problem with that was she started to confuse herself.

_What did _pedi_ mean again? Was it to slay or to speak? What was moon? _Magol nín._ Was that how you say my sword?_

"Lana!" She jumped and focused wide-eyes on Aragorn. "You are not paying attention! I could have just hurt you."

Blinking she saw that Aragorn's sword was dangerously close to her throat. "Oh! I'm sorry," she said sheepishly. "My mind was elsewhere."

Aragorn lowered his sword. "I can see that," he intoned dryly. "Most likely your mind wanders to a certain Mirkwood elf and his language."

She blushed. "How did you know?"

_"Maer inc."_ He tapped his temple with a finger.

"Huh?"

"A good guess," he translated. "I am pleased that you are learning Sindarin, as I know Legolas must be, but you cannot allow your studies to interfere with your training."

She nodded resolutely. "Of course. Sorry. I'll pay attention."

Sheathing his sword he asked, "How does your hand feel today?"

She opened her hand. There was a small red spot coming through the bandages. But the pain was more manageable than she would have expected. Fighting with one hand, and her left one at that, had proved to be a huge trial but she only dropped her sword a few times, even with her occupied thoughts.

It was a testament either to her growing proficiency or Aragorn's skill as a teacher. She leaned towards the latter explanation.

"It's ok. Still tender but it hurts less than I expected. What ever that elvish doctor put on it really helped."

Aragorn took her hand gently in his inspecting the stain. "It should be wrapped again. Come. We have done enough for today."

Cordially he held out his arm toward the direction of camp. Lana lifted a brow but grinned, bemused by the rather courtly gesture. Together they walked back. Chatting amiably—or rather Lana chattered and Aragorn mostly listened.

"I'm pleased the rain let up so that we could practice today," the Ranger told after she paused.

"Me too."

"Despite your wandering mind and one-handed handicap, you did well."

_"Hannon le,_" she said brightly.

Aragorn's lips quirked and he glanced at her briefly.

"I felt more confident today. It's weird, but after what happened yesterday I feel…stronger."

The Ranger did not reply but his smile widened knowingly. As soon as the camp came into view, Aragorn noticed Boromir coming towards them. He felt Lana tense at his side and he lowered his hand to his sword hilt.

Boromir approached them penitently. He swallowed and looked down at Lana.

"Lana, I…I came to apologize. My actions yesterday were uncalled for. I never meant to harm you. I would have you know this."

Lana stared at Boromir suspiciously. She hadn't been expecting any apologies from the man. Given how much he seemed to despise her, she thought that there would be nothing but animosity between them.

Looking at him now, however, she felt a small twinge of sympathy. He looked terrible. His voice was sincerely contrite. Even so, she didn't trust him. And she certainly wasn't ready to forgive him. As if divining her thoughts he continued.

"I do not expect you to forgive me so soon, but I wanted you to know it was not my intention to harm you. Only to test your skills."

"You tested them and you will not do so again," Aragorn commanded with authority.

Boromir nodded contritely.

Lana finally spoke up. "Why didn't you stop when I asked you to?"

The Gondorian gave her a funny look. "You never asked me to stop."

She stared at him incredulously. "Yes, I did. Twice."

Hearing this Boromir openly frowned. "I do not recall you asking."

Disdainful, Lana was tempted to curl her lip at him. How could he not remember? Then something jogged her memory—something he had said during their fight: _It's _mine_!_

His mind had been elsewhere, as if he had been in a trance-like state. It must have been how she looked when the Ring had spoken to her. _The Ring! He meant_ _the Ring! __The Ring caused him to act like that?_ Recalling herself, she focused on Boromir coolly.

"It's in the past. It can't be changed."

Boromir frowned. "You will not even consider—"

She cut him off sharply. "You are asking a lot of me after all the shit you've put me through. Not just yesterday, but before. You have given me nothing but grief since I arrived here. Do you honestly think I would grant you forgiveness in an instant?" She snapped unsettled. "I cannot forgive you now. I need time."

Boromir nodded solemnly, knowing he could not argue with her. "You shall have it."

She watched him walk away as if he was a dangerous predator. Feeling shaken both by the revelation of what the Ring did to him and by her anger, Lana did the only thing that came naturally. She became angry. And right now Boromir was on her shit list and she wanted _nothing_ to do with him.

And to be honest, at the moment she was more concerned with how the Ring could influence her. Or Frodo for that matter. The hobbit seemed relatively unaffected by it…or was he? He was more reserved than the other hobbits…

Feeling Aragorn's concern she gave him a weak smile. The rest of the day she spent on her own, feeling the need for solitude. It was nigh impossible to get it, but she retreated to the fountain with her sketchbook in hand. The afternoon flew by after she fell asleep from exhaustion. She only woke up after dinner.

Pulling on her fleecy hoodie, she then lit one of the portable lanterns on the outskirts of camp and opened her sketchbook once more. It had been days since she last drew anything. And it would be many days more since holding a pencil was still painful.

But it wasn't drawing that captivated her. The elven words written in Legolas' neat hand perked her interest. The Sindarin language kept her mind busy and distracted her from her troubles. She studied for several hours. With an eager mind, she soaked up the information.

Legolas observed her from afar. His keen hearing picked up her voice now and then as she faintly recited the Sindarin words, repeating them over and over again, committing them to memory.

The young mortal intrigued him. She had once been so terrified of him and his kind, and now here she was learning his language. It pleased him far more than he would have expected. It felt good that she was interested in his people—in _him_.

o0o

Lana eventually fell asleep after attempting to memorize her sketchbook. In the morning she returned to the routine of running with Aragorn and then sword practice. She was full of life as she sparred with the Ranger. She even laughed as she dropped her sword quipping that she never had been a leftie. Despite that, she managed to adapt and this thoroughly pleased the Ranger.

Hardly able to wait for her next Sindarin lesson Lana hurried to bathe and then return to camp. For the first time since arriving in this world she felt like she had some things to look forward to. Oddly enough, her lessons with Aragorn and Legolas were activities she took comfort in.

When they arrived back at camp there was an elf dressed in flowing gray garments conversing with Legolas in Sindarin. Both were well aware that Aragorn was on his way into the camp. With that eerie grace that all elves possessed, the newcomer turned and acknowledged Aragorn then Lana with a formal elven bow.

"Aragorn, _i cheryn vi eryn aníra pedi an le,"_ the elf said. _Aragorn, the Lady of the Wood wishes to speak with you._

Lana's ears perked at the word _pedi_. Aragorn left briskly with the elf without further discussion. Lana walked over to Legolas brimming with excitement.

"I understood something he said," she told him eagerly.

"Did you?" He looked at her with lifted brows.

"He said _pedi_. So, he was saying something about speaking."

"Aye, _mae carnen."_

"What did he want to speak to Aragorn about?"

"I know not:_ ú-istan._ The Lady of the Wood wishes to speak with him. That is all I know."

"Ah," she rubbed her nose staring after the Ranger and elf.

"Are you ready for your lesson?"

Smiling again she nodded.

The two settled on a nearby root with Lana's sketchbook. They began another lesson. Less than an hour later Legolas began to quiz her on what she had learned from the previous day as well as this afternoon.

_"Man eneth lín?" What is your name?_

_"Lana i eneth nín." My name is Lana._

_"Maer._ Now let us do numbers. One," _Good_.

_"Min."_

"Two."

_"Tad."_

"Three."

_"Neled."_

"Four."

_"Canad."_

"Five."

_"Leben."_

"Six."

_"Eneg."_

"Seven."

_"Odo."_

"Eight."

"Umm…."

"Eight?" Legolas repeated.

"Ehmm…_toloth?"_

_"Maer._ Nine." _Good_

_"Neder."_

"Ten."

_"Pae."_

_"Mae carnen._ You are a fast learner. Sindarin is not an easy language to master."

Lana pulled a face. "I can say my name and count to ten, but I don't think I've mastered it," she joked.

Amused, Legolas smiled at her. "Perhaps not, but you are off to a good start."

"I have a _maer_ and patient teacher," she told him honestly. _Good_.

He grinned, chuckling as he did so. He enjoyed how she combined the Common Tongue with Sindarin. But the smile faded as he tilted his head to the right, listening.

"What is it?"

"Someone draws near." The elf got to his feet and stood perfectly still. "Aragorn returns. Something is wrong."

Lana stood up as well. The rest of the Fellowship was already looking towards the Ranger as he came sprinting back into the camp.

"What is wrong, Aragorn?" Legolas called to him.

"The enemy moves towards us. They know we are here and they're not far from this land—only a day's journey. We must leave at once."

"Leave?" Lana blanched.

"Aye, we must get a head start. We will travel by boat down the Anduin." He tossed a package at her, which she caught awkwardly with her left hand.

"Dress in that," he ordered. At her baffled expression he elaborated shortly. "It will disguise you. Everyone else pack your things. We leave in one hour."

Legolas nodded curtly and immediately went to stow his own meager belongings for travel. Then he moved to help the others.

Lana retreated to her tent and pulled the sides down for some privacy. Unwrapping the parchment she found a shirt woven from the finest fabric. It was a deep gray-green color, like sage. There was a sturdy jerkin of deep green that laced up the front. She also found a pair of dark gray-green leggings, and a leather belt with a leaf-shaped silver buckle.

Donning the new outfit she imagined she would look rather elvish. However, she saw that she looked more like Aragorn in his Ranger clothes than an elf. The clothing fit loosely, disguising her feminine figure without being cumbersome. Now she could blend in with the group.

The only distinguishing feature was her shoes. The black and white Converse looked very odd but not entirely horrible. Still she wrinkled her nose at the combination. There was nothing for it though. Fashion was not a priority.

She quickly braided her hair back into a thick rope then drew up the sides of her tent. Aragorn nodded his approval when he saw her. It didn't take Lana long to pack and soon she was at Aragorn's side.

"Do we really have to leave?" She asked dolefully. He had once said that the borders were well guarded here.

"Aye. We cannot linger," he told her, tightening his sword belt, and then grabbing his small quiver and bow.

Lana pursed her lips as she watched the flurry of activity around her. In less than thirty minutes the Fellowship was packed and ready to go. Haldir appeared to lead them to the Lord and Lady.

They greeted the ruling couple respectfully, and Lana was once again bowled over by their presence. It seemed that her trepidation around elves was not _entirely_ gone. The Lady Galadriel's starlit eyes rested on her for a heart pounding moment.

Haldir had them form a line. Before them the Lady's handmaidens stood with a grayish fabric in their hands. They stepped forward, the fabric unfurling and each of them was cloaked in a fine garment.

"Never before have we clothed strangers in the garb of our own people," Lord Celeborn said. "May these cloaks help shield you from unfriendly eyes."

A million uncertainties and questions vied for her attention as Lana touched the mallorn leaf brooch at her throat. Immediately she moved her hand back to her side as the golden Lady came forward with several maidens behind her. She announced that she had tokens for each of them, each according to their need.

"My gift for you, Legolas, is a bow of the Galadhrim; worthy of the skill of our woodland kin." She said taking the large bow and placing it in the woodland elf's hands.

A look of wonder filled his face as he ran his hands over the weapon. Eagerly he set his fingers to the string and pulled it back, testing it.

The lady smiled and moved on to Merry and Pippin. As she continued down the line Lana heard her heart thundering in her ears. She felt equal parts curious and dreadful. While she had met and dealt with celebrity and high-ranking members of society in the past, there was something different about this shining elf lady. Numinous feelings flooded her body when Galadriel came before her. Lana sucked in a breath and unconsciously held it.

"I believe my gift to you, Lana Rey, may cause some turmoil. But fear not. It will serve you well."

Now anxious about what she was going to receive, Lana looked up at the shining woman before her. It was Haldir who handed Galadriel the gift for Lana. Taking the object she turned back to the trembling woman.

Lana's eyes grew wide and she involuntarily took a step back. A soft gasp and murmuring was heard from the elves, but Galadriel's gaze was compassionate.

_It is an insult to refuse a gift from the elves_, Aragorn's voice echoed in her memory.

"I—I meant no disrespect," she said in a small voice.

Bowing her head she held out her hands, one bare, the other bandaged. There was a slight tremor in them as a sheathed knife rested in her palms. Galadriel folded her fingers over the blade.

The touch of the elven woman's fingers on hers caused Lana to look up.

"This dagger once belonged to a kinswoman of mine. It served her well until the end. It will serve you now. You will overcome your fears, _penneth_. Do not hide from those who care for you," she said with a gaze full of wisdom and foresight. _Young one._

Then Galadriel moved on. Lana exhaled and pulled her hands in, still gripping the dagger. She studied the sheath and pommel curiously and with some unease. It was exquisitely crafted. The leather sheath was embossed with a floral pattern. The blade was curved. As for the hilt, it fit nicely in her hand. A clear gem was set on the end and it sparkled in the light.

Gingerly she pulled the knife from its casing. Her heart thundered loudly in her head. Swallowing she forced herself to look at the blade. Like the sheath, the blade itself was beautiful. The wicked edged gleamed brightly. A ghost of a feeling raced up her hands, and she felt her left forearm tingle keenly. Quickly she re-sheathed the knife.

"We have boats and supplies for your journey," Celeborn said to the remaining group. "Go now and prepare."

Aragorn, Lana noted, was some distance away in deep conversation with the Lady. With a heavy sigh she moved to aid her companions. She felt more like a hindrance than a help though. The elves were swift and sure-footed. They loaded the boats precipitously. She watched them for a few minutes before moving to Legolas' side.

She listened as he explained _lembas_ to Merry and Pippin. It seemed that those two had already consumed more than they ought and were paying for it now. Usually their antics would amuse her, but a dread had settled in her stomach like an iron ball.

Legolas caught her gaze and smiled at her. She wrinkled her nose at him.

"How can you be so happy?" She questioned dubiously.

"How can I not be happy?"

She gave him a look that clearly said he was mad. "We're leaving! This place is a safe haven and now we're leaving. We're going to face this ominous enemy and no one knows whether we'll live or die. I don't think that's anything to be cheery about."

Legolas regarded her intently. "Blood flows strong in our veins and adventure calls to us. There is much to be thankful for. We are bringing the Ring to its doom to save this land. I am honored to be a part of this quest. I would willingly die if it meant knowing that Middle Earth would be saved. Do you not feel the same?"

She held his gaze for a long moment after his speech. Then she looked at the rest of the Fellowship. Their faces were grim but accepting. This was their fate. Was it hers as well? Exhaling through her nose she looked down thinking.

"It's not that I'm not honored to be here—I _am_ honored, in a weird way. I've made good friends here. But," she looked back at Legolas. "I'm still confused about so many things. About the Ring, about the future, and the _why_ behind why I'm here."

Cocking her head she looked hard at Legolas. "Is it even right for me to fight? This is not my world. And I am not a soldier."

Legolas regarded her intently. "Middle Earth is your home now. But if you feel that you cannot fight, then perhaps you should remain here."

Much to her chagrin, moisture stung her eyes. The idea of being left behind was hurtful. Far more than she would have expected it to be.

"I don't want to stay here and lose you or the others. You are _all_ my friends—the only ones I have in this world. I care for each of you."

"But could you die for your friends?" He pressed, stepping closer to her, holding her gaze with his unfathomable one. "Could you fight for them and for others?"

She held his look for a long moment, transfixed by the intensity of it. Then she looked at the hobbits as they settled in the boats. She looked to Gimli who eyed the vessels with distaste and to Boromir who stood rigidly. Then her eyes rested on Aragorn. A light touched him and for a strange moment she thought she saw a crown on his head and fine robes on his shoulders.

Blinking caused the vision to disappear immediately. Her lips turned down. But a deep feeling of connectivity remained with her. These people were her friends now. They had risked their lives for her when she was just a stranger. Now that they knew each other, there was no doubt they would fight for her.

And she would do the same.

"Yes," she answered Legolas firmly. "I would fight for them." She looked back into his eyes.

Legolas gazed upon her proudly. Resting a hand on her shoulder he squeezed it companionably.

"It is natural to be afraid of the unknown, but do not forget that we are here to help you. And as time passes you will become more aware of this land and your part in it."

Her lips thinned. "For the first time in my life I don't think I want to be more aware."

Legolas frowned slightly at that.

"Perhaps Gandalf was right to keep me in the dark," she continued. "The little I know now makes me quite scared." She admitted openly. "Will I fight or fail? Or will I even live to see the Ring destroyed?" There was a thread of real doubt in her voice.

Legolas rested both hands on her shoulders. "You will not fail. You are strong." He looked deeply into her eyes, impressing his faith into her.

This was a pivotal moment for them, though neither realized it until much later. It was at this moment that their friendship solidified.

But at the present Lana felt uneasy. She crossed her arms as if to protect herself from the momentous decisions. "Aragorn has told me much the same, but I cannot help but doubt myself," she said dryly. "It is still against my nature to kill. I did it in Moria, and I kept thinking about for days afterwards. And I've not finished my lessons with the sword or bow."

"You have learned enough to aid you. Now you need only take those lessons and apply them," Legolas said. Then holding her gaze he continued, "It is never easy to kill."

"But you do it with such ease. I saw you in Moria—how you took those things down,"

"But I have been doing it for far longer than you can imagine. It is not something I enjoy, despite what it may seem." He let go of her shoulders and gripped his new bow. "I kill to survive, and I kill those who oppose what is light and good. It will become easier for you when you discover the importance of this quest as the rest of us know it."

Lana studied him. As she got to know him it was easy to dismiss that he was a warrior, honed with _centuries_ of experience. He remained unjaded, but he was a warrior through and through. He believed in this cause, as did each member of the Fellowship. They knew the stakes far better than she ever could. After all, she was still uncertain of what they were up against.

Glancing behind Legolas she didn't see Aragorn.

"Where is Aragorn? He's not with the Lady anymore,"

Legolas turned and quickly picked out the Ranger. "He is speaking with Lord Celeborn now."

Seeing him she nodded, then swept her gaze over the now loaded boats. Merry and Pippin would be riding with Boromir it seemed. Sam was looking highly unhappy in his boat. Frodo was making his way aboard carefully.

"Who am I going to travel with?"

"With Gimli and myself."

As Legolas said this she saw Gimli making his way towards them from the other end of the bustling shore. With a low sigh she looked at their boat. It was a pale grayish color, elegantly carved. Pursing her lips she thought it looked more like a canoe than boat.

Legolas peered into her face. "Are you fearful of traveling on the water?"

She snorted softly and shook her head. It wasn't traveling by water that preoccupied her thoughts. She was grateful that Legolas' attuned senses couldn't quite pick out her thoughts verbatim.

Her lips curled into a half smile. "I love being on the water, just not falling into a freezing cold river. Do you have a license to operate this thing?" She teased as he offered a hand to help her in.

"A license?"

"Yeah, I mean, you do know how to work this thing, right? We're not going to capsize are we?"

Legolas laughed. "Nay, _hiril nín._ We will not capsize. I promise to keep you safe."

Lana chuckled in return and settled herself carefully at the bow. Legolas gazed at her for a moment. Thoughts of their earlier conversation still revolved in his mind. Then he moved away only to return with his Mirkwood bow in hand.

"I desire for you to have this," he told her softly, extending the sleek weapon towards her.

Lana's eyes grew wide. "What?"

"I have little need of it now with the gift the Lady has given to me. You are well on your way of becoming a proficient archer and will need a bow of your own. I want someone I trust and call a friend to use it and keep it by their side."

He watched her lips part in amazement. Then to his surprise she shook her head, protesting.

"Legolas, I couldn't take it—it's so precious, I mean you _made_ it. And you've owned it for so long. I wouldn't feel right taking it from you."

Lana saw that he appeared greatly upset by her refusal. Once more Aragorn's words about elves and gifts floated through her mind. Never wanting to insult Legolas, especially after all his kindness, patience, and generosity, she relented.

"But if you are _certain_, then of course I accept it." She smiled and held out her hands.

Delighted, the elf said, "I am pleased that you accept."

He placed the bow in her hands and watched as she pulled it into her lap. She held it delicately as if it was the most precious object in the world. Her eyes ran over it eagerly while her fingers traced the golden embellishments with reverence. Catching his amused eyes she smiled and blushed.

"You appear as I must have when I received my first bow," he told her with bemusement.

"This is an extraordinary gift, how can I not be excited?" She said brightly. Then her expression changed swiftly. "How the hell am I ever going to repay you?"

Legolas was quick to reassure her. "You misunderstand my intentions. I wish for no physical gift in return. You have already given me a gift," he said warmly. Although he never did quite understand humans and their tit-for-tat notions of gift giving, his lips quirked when she gave him a baffled look.

"What gift?"

"Your friendship," he said affectionately.

Lana's cheeks colored in a becoming way. But she ducked her head suddenly shy. He grinned widely finding her embarrassment endearing and refreshing.

"There is something else," he added reaching behind him to where some gear lay.

Grabbing a slender quiver filled with white-feathered arrows he held it out to her. He did not think her amazement could get any bigger, but it did and nearly bowled him over.

"This is a gift from the March Warden, Haldir. He regrets that he was unable to give you a bow as he promised but was pleased to learn that I had planned to give you mine. He hopes our combined gifts will help these arrows be true to their mark."

Lana's face was shining as she accepted the leather quiver embossed with elegant elven designs. With light fingers she traced the leaf and floral pattern on the quiver then hesitantly ran a fingertip over the feathers. She shook her head overwhelmed.

"This is…wow…" she glanced up scanning the shore.

"You will not find him here," Legolas told her regretfully. "He has gone to attend his duties on the border of the wood."

She nodded sadly, wishing she could have said good-bye. Mentally she thought it to him, and immediately felt silly for doing so. Still it was some sort of closure.

Legolas watched as she strapped on the quiver, buckling it snuggly to her body. He helped her unstring his old bow and fasten it to the quiver on her back. Taking a step back he looked her over with a fond smile.

"Now you look like a warrior."

She leaned over the boat just slightly so it wouldn't tip and gazed at her reflection. It was true. She did look like something out of a medieval fantasy. _My very own _Game of Thrones_ epic,_ she thought morbidly.

Dressed in the foreign clothes with the quiver and bow on her back, sword and dagger at her hip, she looked downright dangerous. The face that stared back at her was not one she recognized. It wasn't Lana Rey, citizen of the US and BBC journalist that was reflected there. This woman someone else entirely.

Legolas sensed her shifting moods—confusion, loss, and apprehension. Kneeling on the bank he reached out and touched her shoulder comfortingly. She looked up at him with deep eyes.

"I don't look or feel like the person that I once was, Legolas."

"You have changed. You are no longer the same person."

She looked back at the water, and he sensed that her moods flowing swiftly like the river.

"I don't feel like Lana Rey anymore. She was some woman who graduated from the University of Southern California, who studied the classics and journalism. She was a woman who was determined and filled with wanderlust. She loved her family, and traveled the world to give a voice to the voiceless. She loved her mother's cooking and her father's stories; and she both hated and loved her twin brother."

Her eyes became misty as a lifetime of memories swirled past her eyes.

"Times change and so must we," Legolas said sagely. "But not all change is bad," he said peering kindly at her as she met his eyes.

She nodded and released a pent up breath. Her lips curled into a weak smile. Legolas studied her thoughtfully then asked, "Tell me, what does your name mean?"

"My name?"

"Aye, does your name 'Lana' mean something?"

"It can be translated as 'precious stone' or 'jewel.'"

Legolas smiled beautifully then. "Cairnmel."

Lana blinked. "Caramel?"

Legolas chuckled. _"Cairn-_mel," he repeated a bit slower this time. "It is the closest Sindarin translation to your name."

Lana smiled genuinely. "Cairnmel…I like the sound of that. It sounds like an exotic version of caramel—which I love." Her mouth watered at the thought of the delicious candy.

"Would you like me to call you that every so often? A _ëppese_ perhaps?"

Lana cocked her head._ "Ëpesse?"_

"I think you would say 'nickname' in the Common Tongue."

Her lips started to curve. "You mean like how you call Aragorn something that begins with an 'e'?"

"Aye. Estel. It means hope."

Lana nodded slowly, liking the idea. "I don't have a nickname for this world. My brother and friends would call me Lelani or sometimes LanaRey—even just L-Rey… Carinmel." Her smile broadened.

Legolas beamed back at her pleased that he had been able to lift her spirits. Hearing someone approaching he removed his hand from her shoulder and bounded up the shore graceful as a stag. Gimli stood there seemingly in his own world. With assistance from Legolas, the dwarf got settled in the boat.

Lana and Legolas share a look over the dwarf's head but said nothing.

o0o

The group set out down the river just past teatime. Lana could not resist turning around to watch as Lórien grew smaller and smaller. Typically she never looked back. When she left a place she had a strange habit of never looking back. It made the parting more difficult she reasoned. But this time she could not help but pine for the golden trees. She sincerely hoped she could return.

Silence reigned in the little boat. As the trees thinned and the land changed Gimli was the first to break the quiet.

"I have taken my worst wound at this parting," he sighed. "Having looked my last upon that which is fairest."

Lana glanced back at the dwarf curiously.

"Oh, henceforth I will call nothing fair unless it be her gift to me."

Impressed by this declaration Lana shared a look with Legolas.

"What was her gift?" The elf inquired.

Gimli looked ahead as if he was in a trance, not seeing Lana in front of him.

"I asked for a single hair from her golden head," he sighed with a warm dreamy smile. "She gave me _three_."

Legolas smirked and Lana felt a warm amusement at her friend's infatuation. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say an elf has caught the dwarf's eye," she teased, returning the words he had once said to her.

Gimli, however, didn't reply. Still seemingly lost in his thoughts, he had a wistful smile on his face for a while. Lana shook her head, before looking onward.

* * *

_Reviews feed the muse!_

_Thanks for reading! _


	14. The Anduin

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.**

I make no claims on Tolkien's works. I also give credit to Cormak3032.

A huge thank you to you all who have sent me such kind reviews! It's so exciting and validating to know that you are enjoying my take on Cormak's original fic. I can only hope that my version does hers justice-and satisfies that need in all of us to see this story finished. Rest assured, I will be finishing. I have many, many chapters already completed, and just a handful more to actually write.

Without further ado, here is another chapter dedicated specifically to Sethiel and BeckyBoom. Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 13: The Anduin**

When it was all said and done the journey south was relatively peaceful. The calming sounds of the water and birds combined with the warm sun made most of the Fellowship feel at ease. However, the seasoned warriors knew that it was only a calm before the storm.

As for Lana, she took it all in stride. She had no idea where they were going and could do nothing but trust implicitly in her companions. It was a strange feeling not having any control. She felt adrift with no anchor. It made her restless. On occasion, she would glance back at Legolas and Gimli. Everyone in her boat seemed withdrawn despite the fine late winter's day.

The elf had become quiet. Once again acting as eyes and ears for the group Legolas kept his focus on their surrounds even as he managed the vessel. Lana wondered what he was thinking. She was starting to see more behind the mask as she grew to know him better, but he was still very much a mystery to her.

His keen eyes surveyed the land as they floated down the river. Lana was curious as to what he could hear and see. The scenery was magnificent to her eyes so it had to be utterly amazing with his eagle-like vision. The forestlands gave way to rolling hills of hardy grasses. On the west side the growth was green and filled with life. But on the east, brown lands stretch as far as the eye could see. It seemed almost like a desert, but life clung stubbornly to the earth there too.

Gimli for his part remained silent in his own thoughts. Sometimes he would sigh deeply. No doubt his mind dwelt on the Lady Galadriel. He was also a bit of enigma to Lana. It wasn't his size or even his appearance that boggled her mind. It was the mere fact that he was a _dwarf_.

While she saw him, the hobbits, and Legolas daily, her brain still didn't know what to make of them. The fact that they were separate from her in ways that she couldn't even imagine was hard to comprehend. And yet, they were hardly different from her at all. In fact, she wasn't sure if there was really that much difference between them in the end.

Did they not breath the same air? Eat the same food? They laughed and cried as she did. They felt the same emotions. So how different were they really? Recalling the moments of laughter between herself and the hobbits, she smiled quietly.

Already she had been in this world a month.

_Has it really been that long?_ A worried moue pulled on her lips. What did her family think? Again she wondered if they knew she was missing. They had to—that is if time ran the same there as it did here. _I hope they found out soon!_ Irrationally she worried for her cat. She didn't like the idea that he might have gone hungry when she didn't come home.

Shoving the disconcerting thought away she reflected again on Lothlórien. She had changed a lot during those long days under the _mallorn_ trees. Despite the endless hours, time had slipped by so fast!

She missed the Golden Wood immensely; the way the light spilled through the yellow leaves of the massive trees, the faint singing voices on the wind, and the feeling that time had stopped. Now it felt like time was trying to speed up in compensation for standing still.

She missed the easy conversations between herself and the hobbits. Funnily enough, she longed to return to the times when she and Aragorn ran through the trees in the morning, sometimes making a race of it. He always won, but the exhilarating feel of energy—the wind coursing through her hair and their combined laughter echoing in the morning stillness was a memory that she wished to capture in her hand and hold close to her heart.

She also wanted to return to the archery lessons with Legolas. Though drawing the bow was still a challenge, she had steadily grown to cherish the time they spent together. And now that she and Legolas were on better terms, she was anxious to make use of his expertise. Watching the river water flow past them, Lana wondered if there would even be time for lessons of any kind.

Looking ahead at the other boats she observed the rest of her companions. Aragorn was in the lead, steering his vessel with gentle nudges of the leaf-shaped paddle. Frodo and Sam were staring ahead.

In the middle boat Boromir was the captain. His great arms made the task of paddling seem quaint. Observing him from behind she mulled over his apology. She was feeling less antagonistic towards him. But perhaps her ardor had merely cooled to frosty contempt.

_No, _she thought. _I am beginning to forgive… _But it wasn't easy. The process would take awhile. After all, he had wanted to get rid of her from the very start. The fact that the Ring exploited his feelings was no consolation. Staring at him she wondered for the first time if he had a family. A wife perhaps? Children? That would be interesting.

Shifting her gaze to Merry and Pippin she nearly laughed. Merry was dozing but Pippin looked bored out of his mind. His arms were crossed on the lip of the boat, his chin on his arms. Catching her eye he smiled at her. She was tempted to make a face at him, just to make him laugh. However, the stillness was not without some solemnity and it didn't feel right make light of it.

They broke eye contact, each becoming lost in their own thoughts once more. With a sigh she arched her back before sinking back down in her seat. Much like Pippin, she leaned on the side of the boat. Idly she trailed her fingers in the icy water.

Winter still gripped the land and Lana was grateful for the warmth her new clothes provided. The river water chilled her fingers and eventually she withdrew them.

It was many hours later when the sun had nearly set behind the horizon that Aragorn motioned them all to shore. It was decided that they would camp for the night in the small jetty that had formed naturally.

Lana volunteered to gather firewood. She felt stiff and moving around would be beneficial. Not to mention the mood of the day had affected her. She wanted some time alone, and it was going to be even harder to come by that now. In fact, she was not alone for long.

She jumped when Legolas appeared beside her. However she said nothing at his sudden appearance, even though he had startled her quite badly. But it served her right for being so involved with her thoughts. As Aragorn liked to remind her, the wilds were not safe.

She continued to gather kindling under Legolas' acute observation.

"You have been very quiet," he remarked softly.

He bent down to retrieve dry sticks alongside her. The task seemed too mundane for the warrior, but it didn't faze him. She could feel his penetrating gaze on her but she didn't dare look at him. She wasn't capable of holding his probing look.

As she remained pensive, a wave of concern washed over him. He almost spoke again when she beat him to it.

"So, have you." She straightened. "So have we all."

Legolas shifted his gaze to stare into the darkening woods. Only then did Lana chance a look at him. There was worry written on his face.

"There is an evil stirring. I can feel it, and it draws nearer every day."

When he turned back to her the intensity of his eyes made her swallow. She had always felt uncomfortable under his austere gaze. It was so powerful. She was about to ask what evil he was sensing when he continued.

"I feel it, just as I can feel the anguish emanating from you. It burns like the heat off a flame," he tilted his head. "I have felt it all day. _Man presta le?" What troubles you?_

Dropping his gaze she adjusted the kindling in her arms. "I…it's nothing,"

At last she returned his gaze with a sidelong glance. He knew in an instant what was wrong. "You yearn for Lothlórien."

Her eyes widened at his accurate assumption. Slowly she nodded.

"I guess I do. It was beautiful, mystical even…so unlike any place I have ever been to before," she told him. "I found some measure of peace there and built friendships...I never really stopped to cherish it until it was too late." She peered into his eyes.

Legolas found that for once he was unable to hold the woman's gaze. Who knew that mortals could possess such intensity! Yet how could she not? Did not elves and mortals feel in the same way? Did they not laugh and grieve together? Did they not experience pain and joy? Unbeknownst to him, Lana had asked herself these same questions that very day.

Thinking on her words he too felt the great loss of leaving the Golden Wood. The peace there was inexplicable but much desired. It had indeed been a haven. He felt her sadness and it mixed undeniably with his own.

"I understand your heart," he told her quietly. "For 'twas the first time I ever laid my eyes on the giant mallorn trees, or gazed upon the Lady of Light. I recognize and feel the same grief that you bear."

She cocked her head, her braided hair falling over her shoulder. "You've never been to Lothlórien before?" She asked in astonishment.

"Nay," he replied with a sad smile. "I ventured very little from my homeland until recently. And then it was to the desolate lands far in the north," he continued to explain. "When the council met in Rivendell, my father sent me there. That was the first time that I had ever gazed upon the beauty of Imladris. And so it was with the Golden Wood."

"But I thought that it was so close to your home—well, closer than Im—Imlad...eh, River-dell."

"Rivendell," he corrected with a faint smile. "Aye, it is a bit closer, but not by much."

"Rivendell is where Aragorn grew up, right?"

"Aye. He was raised there by Lord Elrond who treated him as his own son."

Feeling pleased to have actually recognized a place name, Lana smiled faintly. Maybe there was hope for her here yet. However she still clung to the belief that she would find a way home. It occupied her thoughts almost constantly and it had dominated most of them during the day.

Even so, the fact that Legolas rarely traveled struck her as very odd. She looked him over speculatively.

"Why didn't you ever travel? I mean, you're well over 2,000 years old. You can't tell me that you haven't had the time."

Legolas' sad smile made her heart clench inexplicably. "My reasons had little to do with time. I had duties to attend at home that did not allow me to venture far."

The bitterness in his voice surprised her. She decided that now wasn't the best time to pry, but that didn't stop her from wondering. One day maybe he would tell her more about his home. He was not looking at her, but rather his gaze seemed turned inward.

When he finally did meet her eyes she was paralyzed by his intensity.

"I am sorry for the losses you have had to endure on this journey, and for those you will no doubt endure in the future. Just as I am sorry for being unable to offer you the comfort of familiarity and family."

His words surprised her and she wondered where they had come from. Still she was touched and she smiled kindly, if a little sadly. Shifting the kindling in her arms she reached out with her uninjured hand and squeezed his forearm in thanks.

"Your friendship is an unexpected gift that I never expected in this world. _Hannon le."_

He smiled taking her hand in his; his heart warm from the gesture. "You are most welcome."

Feeling suddenly shy, Lana let go of his hand and quickly grabbed the kindling that was sliding from her grasp.

"I think we have more than enough kindling. Aragorn said we were only allowed to have a small fire tonight. We should get back. I'm sure the hobbits are waiting impatiently."

Legolas chuckled faintly picturing the hobbits pacing and complaining that their bellies required nourishment and that Lana was taking too long. Extending his arm toward her he said, _"Hiril nín_ Cairnmel, may I escort you back to our camp?"

Lana beamed at hearing her nickname. She fell easily into Legolas' playful mood. "Why that would be just delightful, Master Elf."

He grimaced. "Please do not call me _that_. You sound too much like Gimli," he bemoaned and she stifled a laughed.

"How would you wish me to address you then, my lord?" She asked in theatrical accented tones.

"My given name would do nicely."

She _tisked_ her tongue and shook her head. "Nay, that won't do at all." Tapping a finger to her lips she thought for a moment.

Legolas grinned in amusement and waited patiently until she spoke.

_"Auth maethor a maer mellon nín,_ I would be delighted if you would escort me." She gave him a gracious smile that was quickly breaking under the strain of her amusement. _Skilled warrior and my good friend._

Legolas said nothing for a few moments, but a warm smile spread on his lips. "You have honored me with such high praise, _Hiril_ Cairnmel, by speaking the language of my people. Already you show dedication."

Lana's smile changed into a gleeful one. "So you understood what I said? I've been studying. Did I make any mistakes?"

Legolas chuckled at her enthusiasm and he took up her uninjured hand in his once more, and leaned towards her. "Nay, your Sindarin is close to perfect."

"But not perfect," she pouted. She looked utterly adorable with her lower lip puckered slightly.

"Your accent is slightly off, but I might be able to pass you off as an elf yet!" He teased with a grin.

She laughed at that idea. "What with these ears and this body? I don't think so. Besides, I don't think Gimli would approve of such an idea."

Legolas gave her a warm look. "Do not mock yourself so, and I care not for Gimli's opinion on the matter. Shall we?"

He extended his free hand towards the camp again. She nodded feeling giddy and childish as he tucked her hand into the crook of his arm.

Legolas felt his delight bubble up. He covered her hand with his own and they proceeded down the slope towards the camp.

They had not taken more than ten steps when Legolas halted unexpectedly. The smile on his face faded and in an instant shattered their playful interval.

"What is it?" Lana looked at him warily. She felt his hand unconsciously tighten on hers.

"We should return to camp, it is not safe to stray." He looked down at her, and taking her hand in his, he commanded, _"Aphado nin." Follow me._

The hobbits were very pleased to see them reenter the camp. Legolas appeared first at a light jog barely making a sound while Lana followed behind much more loudly by comparison.

Aragorn immediately went to Legolas as Lana dropped the firewood to the ground. She helped to get the blaze going, while keeping an eye on the Ranger and elf. She produced her lighter to make the process go faster.

Her eyes flickered to where Legolas and Aragorn spoke in muffled undertones. After conversing only a few moments, Aragorn turned to the others. "There will be only a very small fire this evening. Saruman's spies draw near and it would be foolish to lead them to us before we have reached our destination."

"Small? But that means we can't cook anything big. It would take too long. And we're _so_ hungry," Pippin complained. He was not at all used to eating only three times a day. And sometimes they only ate twice!

"There is bacon, tomatoes, and _lembas_ bread. That will not take long to prepare," Aragorn told him brusquely, then turned back to the boats.

Pippin sighed. He longed for a hardy meal of meat and vegetables before they spoiled and were unable to be consumed. Sam however said that they could make sandwiches and that it would be hardy enough. In the meantime, he passed around pieces of the lembas to tide them over.

Legolas and Aragorn refused and Gimli feigned disinterest. He was sounding much more like himself now.

Lana sat propped up against a fallen tree and munched on her share. The bread was interesting, both slightly sweet and savory. It wasn't bad, but she wasn't really a bread person. After several bites she offered the rest to Pippin. Then she returned her attention to the Ranger and elf and wondered what they were talking about. The looks on their faces made the bread in her stomach gurgle. She was familiar with such expressions and knew something was up.

She was distracted by their main meal and conversation with Pippin and Merry as they pried more information about her world from her. They liked her many stories and the ridiculous antics between herself and her brother, Aidan. Normally she was happy to oblige, but this evening the tension in the air affected her.

Their meager dinner consumed, both Aragorn and Legolas took up watch, staring out over the river. It looked like they were scanning the water for something. And they remained that way even as the Fellowship prepared for sleep.

Merry and Pippin fell asleep with no trouble. Despite his muttered complaints Gimli had eaten all his _lembas_ and now he slept soundly as well. Frodo was sitting off on his own facing the water. Sam meanwhile was making an inventory of their supplies.

Back up stream a little ways near a rocky outcrop was Boromir. He seemed highly interested in something out in the river. What it was, Lana couldn't say. She craned her neck but still didn't see anything. Unconsciously she twisted her loosened hair around her fingers.

Aragorn stepped up beside the Gondorian as he set down his gear. "Gollum. He has tracked us since Moria. I had hoped to lose him on the river, but he is too clever a waterman."

"And if he alerts the enemy to our whereabouts it will make the crossing even more dangerous," Boromir warned.

Lana frowned, but she was quickly distracted by another conversation much closer at hand.

"Have some food, Mr. Frodo," Sam said, offering the other hobbit a bit of the way bread.

"No, Sam."

"You haven't eaten anything all day. You're no sleeping, neither—don't think I haven't noticed," Sam admonished gently. Kneeling by his friend's side, he said, "Mr. Frodo—"

"I'm alright," Frodo interjected tersely.

"But you're not," Sam spoke with worry. He looked at the dark-haired Ring-bearer hopelessly. "I'm here to help you. I promised Gandalf that I would."

The sad tone of Samwise's voice caught Lana's attention and she turned her head to observe them. Frodo looked at Sam with a haunted desolate expression that seemed to grow more prevalent by the day.

"You can't help me, Sam. Not this time. Get some sleep."

The words were heartbreaking, and Sam looked at a loss as to what to do now. He peered anxiously at Frodo but at last sighed in defeat and went to settle himself on his bedroll.

Frodo remained where he was, his thoughts turned inward. He was startled when Lana came and sat across from him. He looked at her questioningly. Instantly his hand went to the Ring that remained hidden under his shirt. He saw her dark eyes flicker to his hand then back to his face.

"I know we haven't talked very much so I can understand your hesitation. But I mean you no harm," she said unthreateningly.

Frodo studied her warily. She so peculiar and had he not the influence of the Ring distracting him, he might have found her fascinating. He used to be curious about other lands and their inhabitants. But now he was only suspicious.

"I know this, but I cannot help but fear after…" He trailed off not wanting to offend her outright.

She grimaced. "Yeah after what happened in Lórien." She wrinkled her nose in that way she usually did when confronted with something she didn't like. "Look, I don't blame you for your apprehension,"

"Then why do you seek me out when you know there is a risk?"

"Because I have something that might help,"

Alarmed his hand went back to his chest, clutching the Ring again.

"I don't want your stupid ring," she growled, annoyed by his blatant lack of trust. Then she sighed and ran her good hand through her loose hair. "Listen, I don't want to be anywhere near it, but that's not an option for me since the whole reason we're all together is to protect it and you.

"And I don't want to seem rude or aloof for not talking to you, but honestly that thing scares the shi—ah, hell, out of me. So I much rather stay as far away as possible."

Frodo observed her solemnly. "Yet you still risk hearing its call by sitting near me."

She gave him an impatient look. "Look, all I wanted to say is that you have friends all around you, and they are here to help. Sam in particular is always there for you. I don't know your guys' history, but I can see that he is devoted to you. He would help you more if you let him."

"He cannot help me. No one can. This is _my_ burden. Mine alone."

Lana's brows drew together. "I don't know how you can say that since there is this entire company here working towards the same goal, but whatever. All I can say is that Sam is trying to be a true friend and help you in anyway he can. He is trying to help _you_—not take your task from you."

Frodo frowned. "Why are you telling me this? What business is it of yours?"

She shrugged. "Honestly, none. But I have seen similar situations like this before back at home. I'd hate to see what happened back there happen to you and Sam." She paused letting her words sink in. "I don't know you or Sam—I don't _know_ anyone here really; but I can't help but want to see things right for everyone here. All of you have been so kind to me."

Now intrigued Frodo asked, "What happened in your home that has you worried now?"

"Two acquaintances of mine were friends since childhood. One of them became involved in a freak accident—a death of another mutual friend. The other one tried to help the grieving friend. They tried to be there and do everything they could to help this person move on, but the troubled friend wouldn't accept anything from anyone. He drew further into himself, and he continuously pushed his friend away, until one day that friend decided it wasn't work the pain and heartbreak of trying to be there anymore.

"Their friendship ended, most tragically, and it was many lonely months later that the troubled friend realized how much he needed the other person. But it was too late. Their friendship never returned."

Frodo grimaced. "That is truly tragic."

Lana gave him a long look. "Yes. It is."

She stood and left him. He watched as she settled on her bedroll a good distance away. Her story mulled through his mind. It certainly gave him something to think about. Then with a heavy sigh he glanced at Sam. The other hobbit was already softly snoring. Frodo moved to his own bedroll nearby and tried to rest as well. But his heart would not let him.

Lana repositioned herself against the log she had sat against earlier. Spreading out her new bedroll she wrapped herself in both her hoodie and cloak. It was chilly by the river. A tremor raced through her and she hunkered down trying to conserve heat. She wasn't sure if she would be able to sleep.

"Minas Tirith is the safer road,"

Her ears pricked once more listening in on warriors' conversation. They were still deep in discussion. A movement across the water caught her eye. She saw a gangly looking animal slither out of the water. It wasn't a snake. She saw four limbs, but…she felt her heart speed up at the sight of it.

_Is _that_ Gollum? _She wrinkled her nose.

"You know that," Boromir continued, almost as if answering her thoughts. "From there we can regroup—strike out for Mordor from a place of strength," he argued passionately.

Lana blinked trying to follow. Boromir was doing his best to persuade Aragorn, but the Ranger seemed to want none of it.

"There is no strength in Gondor that can avail us," Aragorn said without demure.

"You were quick enough to trust the elves!" Boromir gestured towards Legolas vehemently.

The elf stood a ways down river, not too far from where Lana lay huddled. He did not turn nor react, although Lana was certain he could hear every word clearly.

"Have you so little faith in your own people?" The pain of betrayal in Boromir's voice made Lana frown.

She thought Aragorn was from Rivendell—not Gondor. What was Boromir saying? The man's words seemed to touch the Ranger though, and he shifted his weight as if uncertain. Seizing on this chance, the man of Gondor forged ahead.

"Yes, there is weakness, there is frailty—but there is courage also! And honor still to be found in men. But you will not _see_ that!" He accused.

Choosing not to reply, Aragorn made to step away. But Boromir's fist shot out and seized the front of the Aragorn's jerkin. He pulled so that they were face to face.

"You are afraid! All your life you have hidden in the shadows—scared of who you are—_what_ you are!"

Lana's lips parted, her mind filling with alarm and questions. She glanced over at Legolas who was watching Frodo then his eyes shifted to her.

Aragorn jerked away from Boromir angrily. He was not one to get incensed easily but Boromir had pushed him to his limit. Lana could sense the Ranger's aggravation from where she sat. It radiated off of him like heat from an engine. The look he gave Boromir was nothing less than chilling. He growled something in undertone at the Gondorian before turning on his heel.

Boromir watched in despair. Then his gaze caught Lana's. Their eyes collided in a mutual look of distrust, but he broke away first. Shame lurked under the defeat.

Aragorn meanwhile grabbed his quiver and bow and made for the woods at a quick pace. Lana opened her mouth to ask a question, but the man was gone. Glancing at Legolas in askance, she saw the elf merely grip his bow and move after him.

"Stay here," he commanded softly as he paused by her. "We will return."

In a blink the elf was gone, hot on the heels of the Ranger. Lana sat back against the log. Dazed and tired she simply shook her head. All this tension was grating on one's nerves, and none of it had anything to do with her she reminded herself. Stretching out on the ground she watched the river until sleep ultimately claimed her.

o0o

Deep in the night a startled cry made Lana bolt upright. Frodo was sitting up with his sword drawn. Aragorn, who had returned and was asleep, woke as well. In an instant he was on his feet. Rushing to the hobbit he asked what was wrong. Legolas materialized by the Ranger's side as well.

Lana glanced about wide-eyed, disoriented, and rather surprised that she had actually fallen asleep. Rising she tripped unexpectedly, and nearly fell over. She realized that a cloak was gathered around her feet. Not her own for it was still clasped about her shoulders. Someone else's then. Kicking it aside in annoyance she rushed to the others.

"What is it? Why have you drawn your sword?" Aragorn was asking the shaken hobbit.

"Gollum!" Frodo said with wide eyes. "Or at least I thought it was him."

Aragorn sat back on his heels. His face was one of irritation but at himself rather than Frodo. He shared a look with Legolas.

"We tried to catch him during the night, but he is slier than a fox and more slippery than a fish. We will attempt to travel faster tomorrow. Sleep now, all of you," he told the now alert Fellowship. "I will keep watch of what is left of the night."

Frodo sheathed his sword and sat back on his bedroll. Sam was muttering under his breath about how uncivilized it was to be attacked in the middle of the night.

Aragorn moved off to sit on a large rock, his hand poised on his sword hilt. Lana grimaced openly. Only she and Legolas remained standing. He came to her side, and putting his hand on the small of her back, guided her back to where she had been sleeping.

_"Losto,"_ he told her. _Sleep._

Lana wrinkled her nose and wrapped her arms about her middle holding her clock close. "I don't know if I can knowing that _thing_ is out there," she said distastefully. Whatever Gollum was he creeped her out.

"We will protect you. You are weary. _Losto."_

She threw an annoyed look at his persistence but gave in anyway. Settling back down on her bedroll she pulled her cloak about her once more. Legolas stood over her as she felt the chill of the rocky beach seep into her bones. She shivered.

The elf bent over her reaching for the cloak that had been carelessly kicked aside. He draped it over her body then walked away.

In the moments before sleep reclaimed her, Lana watched the elven warrior, his silhouette cutting a comforting figure against the night. Only later did she realize that he was not wearing his cloak.

* * *

_Thoughts? Comments? Questions? Concerns, perhaps? I enjoy hearing from you!_

_ Let me know if you happen to catch any typos, grammatical errors, or inconsistencies. I'm hardly a perfect writer, but I strive to give you well-edited chapters. _

_As always, thanks for reading! _


	15. Secrets

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.**

I make no claims on Tolkien's works. I also give credit to Cormak3032.

Thank you all for your reviews! The greatest compliment is to hear from you.

A quick note: I'm not translating every single Sindarin word or phrase now. I am assuming that by this time you are familiar with _hannon le _(thank you) and _istan/ú-istan _(I know/I know not). There is one word that I didn't translate and haven't really used much so I thought I would put it up here.

_Elleth/Ellyth: _female elf/elves. And for good measure _ellon/ellyn:_ male elf/elves. If you have questions about the Sindarin or anything at all, send me a message. Cheers!

* * *

**Chapter 14: Secrets**

_"You're wasted as a journalist,"_

_She laughed. "But I like journalism."_

_Marie shook her head. "I think you should sing all the time. You could make it, you know. You've got the talent."_

_Lana waggled her brows. "Ya think so?"_

_The warmth of the café shimmered oddly as the walls lost their vibrancy and took on an unpleasant dilapidated feeling. The booth she had been sharing with Marie became a small square cell with walls that had once been orange surrounding them. A shiver ran through Lana despite the heat of the cell. Hands gripped her arms roughly from behind._

_"Are you going to sing today, little bird?"_

_Baffled she looked to Marie. Heart racing she froze. She said nothing to man as a familiar defiance surged within her. She refused to answer and instead stared straight ahead at the cracked paint in the orange walls. Marie was sitting on the ground now watching with an expectant smile as if nothing was wrong. It was like she didn't see the man who gripped her so crudely._

_"Go on then, sing…that's what you're good at, yes?" The thickly accented male voice said from behind her._

_The touch of a naked blade kissed her throat._

_"That's what you do right? Journalist," the male spat on the ground beside her. "Lies! That's all you sing."_

_He circled her, the knifepoint tracing down her neck to the winged bones above her breast._

_"Sing for me now, sweet bird!"_

_The knife pushed in. Instinctively she drew back but strong hands held her immobile. She started to struggle. Hysteria welled up in her chest. Lana looked to her friend in desperation._

_"Yes, she has such a lovely voice," Marie said, still oblivious to the danger._

_Finding her voice, Lana yelled. "Fuck off!"_

_The man laughed. "You hear that? She sings! Lana the bird!"_

_"Such a beautiful voice."_

_"Let me go!"_

_The knife pricked her skin on her neck, but strangely it was her left arm that was hurting._

_"Sing for me now, little bird."_

_"Yes! Sing Lana!"_

_Lana shrieked as pain bred with fear._

_"Such sweet music…"_

"Lana,"

_"No!" She tried to pull away from the hands shaking her. Throwing up an arm she sought to deflect the knife._

"Lana!"

Her eyes flew open. Seeing a dark haired man crouched over her she nearly screamed. But her vision cleared and she realized who it was and where she was. Aragorn was looking at her with deep concern. She exhaled explosively.

"Aragorn," she whispered roughly.

He finally let go of her arms, which he had to catch in order to deflect her blows. "Are you well?" There was real worry in his eyes.

She pushed herself upright and drew back from him holding her left arm close. She could feel her body quivering; the touch of the knife had felt so _real_. Glancing down she half expected to see her arm pouring with blood. It wasn't. Closing her eyes, she forced back the moisture that had gathered there.

Nodding she said, "Yes…yes, I'm fine."

"You were speaking in your sleep," he said softly, his blue eyes alight with concern.

She grimaced and looked down at her hands. Noticing that they were trembling she folded them together in the cloak folds on her lap.

"I'm sorry; I hope I didn't wake anyone."

"No. It was only as I approached that you were audible. Are you sure you are well?" He looked her over closely seeing that she was still shaking.

Lana nodded firmly. "Just old dreams."

He saw a familiar gleam of rigid determination in her face. Whatever her dreams held, she would keep to herself he knew. While this bothered him somewhat time was of the essence. Dawn was already breaking.

"The hobbits are passing around _lembas_ now. We must pack and then leave." She said nothing but nodded again. "How is your hand healing? You have not spoken of it."

Untangling her right hand from the cloaks that covered her, she held out it to him. She was relieved that the tremor was gone. Gently, Aragorn cradled it in his. He unwrapped it and inspected the wound.

"It is healing well," he said looking at the thick pink scar tissue that was forming. "Does it pain you?"

"Some," she shrugged indifferently. "Whatever that elven healer did to it, it's healing much faster than normal." With caution, she flexed her palm methodically. The stinging pain had been reduced to a dull ache. "Legolas will be pleased to know that I can start archery lessons soon."

Aragorn's smile was thin and it faded quickly. "As much as both you and he would enjoy that, it is not possible now."

Lana frowned. "Why not?"

She had actually been looking forward to more archery. She did well enough with the sword, but she lacked embarrassingly when it came to the bow. And now that she had a bow of her own—and Legolas' to boot—she wanted to use it.

"In a few days we will be at the Falls of Rauros. From there we will decide our direction. By day, we will travel on the river and at night we will rest. There will be no time for lessons."

Lana swallowed. "But I'm not ready for battles. I _need_ more lessons," she insisted as Aragorn dabbed a salve onto her palm.

He bound it up in a new clean cloth. Looking into her eyes, he spoke. "You have learned the sword with me, and Legolas has taught you all the lessons you require for the bow. It is up to you to take those teachings and apply them. Have some confidence for you are a quick learner."

She gave him a less than enthused look. He patted her shoulder. "If you wait too long, Merry and Pippin may eat all the _lembas_ bread." He teased her. "Go and eat. You will need your strength."

Her lips quirked in the semblance of humor, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Fine," she quipped. Then something by the river caught her attention. "I'll go in a minute."

Following her gaze, he saw Legolas standing alone. He gave her a short nod and then moved to gather his things. Now alone, Lana ran a hand through her hair aware that she must look like a bedraggled wild woman from Xena.

Self-consciously she twisted her hair up and held it with a hair stick from her bag. It would have to do for now. Even though she felt dirty and rank, there wasn't much she could do about that. It was too cold to bathe in the river, and doubtless there would no time for such things. Her mind drifted back to the glorious hot baths in Lothlórien. She was already missing them with a vengeance.

Sighing she rose, taking the extra cloak with her. Legolas stood alone, still as a marble statue. The only movement came from the sluggish wind that fluttered in his hair and clothes.

The weather was the opposite of yesterday's. Now cold, foggy and damp, the climate seemed as moody as her mind. Visibility was limited to about fifteen feet. Eyeing the fog she doubted that even Legolas' keen eyes could pierce the gloom.

Slowly she walked up behind him and he turned hearing her approach easily.

_"Aurmaer." _He bid her. _Good morning._ His smile lacked its usual luster. Lana could see that he was troubled.

_"Aurmaer,"_ she replied in turn. "Are you alright? You look worried."

He sighed. "The mist hinders my ability to see as far as I would want. I must rely on my other senses."

Lana swallowed and cast a wary look at the fog. "Is something coming?" She wanted to know if she should be concerned or not.

"Evil stirs, but I believe we are far enough away at the moment," he said honestly.

"What about that Gollum thing?" She asked, her lip curling in revulsion. "It's still out there." She reminded him.

Legolas frowned. "Aye, but he will not attack us with the odds so against him."

That was a small relief. Silence fell between them, each lost in their own thoughts. The river flowed past them making soft sounds as the water splashed against rocks and roots. In the background, the sounds of the others eating and packing could be heard.

It always amazed Lana how quickly the moods shifted around here. Last evening Legolas had comforted her and they had laughed together. Then the rest of the night and this morning had left everyone on edge. But that was the way of war. And well did she know it.

_"Lostannech maer,"_ Legolas commented softly, breaking the silence._ You slept well._

She gave him a wry smile. "Yeah I suppose…at least as much as I could with rocks for a pillow." She felt stiff all over. There was an annoying ache in her shoulder. A direct result from sleeping on stones. Not the best of mattresses.

He nodded, his eyes searching her face. He could see the vague imprints of the river rocks on her cheek. It must not have been comfortable for her.

_"Ú-lostannech,"_ she told him with slight accusation. _You slept not._

"Nay," he answered evenly though his brow rose in surprise. "How did you know?"

She gestured to their environment. "You're in the same position you were in last night. Right here by this weird rock."

She pointed to the rocky outcrop that hung over the river's edge. It looked like some sort of bizarre dragon. Bringing her attention back to Legolas she asked, "Why didn't you sleep?"

Now that she thought about it, she had never seen him sleep.

"I was not in need of rest," he replied.

He continued to gaze at the miasma, willing it away with his eyes. Lana snorted and was about to tell him that if he didn't rest he would keel over, but a cool wind came off the water distracting her. Tugging her cloak closer to her body, she draped his cloak over his shoulders.

"It's cold," she said when he gave her a quizzical expression.

"I do not feel it," he said unemotionally.

Lana laughed nervously. She felt foolish for forgetting that elves were pretty much impervious to all kinds of weather.

"Well, I'm cold enough for the both of us," she tried to joke, but Legolas clearly missed the teasing note in her voice.

"Wear the cloak._ Ú-voen,"_ he told her. _I need it not._

Taking the cloak from his shoulders, he offered it to her. Lana however shook her head and took a step back.

"I don't need it," she insisted, pushing his hand back to towards him. "I'll be fine once we get moving. Besides, it's yours."

"You are cold. Please, wear it." Legolas countered. He was not blind. He could see her continuing to shiver even though the wind had diminished.

"I'm fine," she told him stubbornly.

With a sigh, he clasped the leaf brooch at the base of his neck. Then taking one side of the cloak in hand, he smoothly pulled her toward him, effectively wrapping it around them both.

Lana's heart jumped in surprise at this action and she immediately went stiff in his embrace.

"I do not mind sharing," he told her with genuine innocence.

A nervous laugh escaped her and she broke away from his embrace. "Legolas, really. I'm fine." She tucked some loose hair behind her ear, not meeting his eyes.

"You are lying to me," he said, sounding both hurt and disapproving.

She looked at him with wide eyes.

"You are shivering," he added as if that proved his point.

And it did. Lana forced herself to stop trembling. "I'm just a little cold. I've stopped shivering now. See?"

The elf frowned, his brows lowering over his eyes. He did not look the least bit convinced.

"The cold is not going to kill me. I'm fine, Legolas. Don't worry." She tried to brush him off, but clearly it wasn't working.

His voice was soft but firm when he spoke. "It is too late. I am already concerned." His blue eyes held hers.

Lana felt her breath catch and her stomach seized into knots. Why was he suddenly so concerned about her welfare? First he had given her his cloak last night and then tried to make her take it again this morning. Now, when she put her foot down, he had pulled her into his arms so that they could share it together.

She didn't know what to make of that. But as quickly as the panic came, it left. His next words made her realize that she was overreacting.

He stepped close and put a hand on her shoulder. "You are my _friend_. I cannot help but be concerned."

Lana exhaled, her body sagging in relief. Clearly she had worked herself up for nothing. Then she smiled gently at him, happy to hear his words. Standing on tiptoes, for he was a good five inches taller than her, she placed a light kiss on his cheek.

_"Istan,"_ she said softly. _"Hannon le_ for all that you have done for me. You are too good of a friend to me." She beamed up at him.

Legolas gave her a bright smile. Happiness welled up inside of him like a forest spring. So unexpected was the joy he felt at the friendship he shared with this mortal woman! The more time he spent with her, the more he realized that he could not imagine returning to a life without her companionship. He felt this way about all of the members of the Fellowship, even though he was well aware of the dangers of growing attached to mortals.

Lana sank back down onto her heels and looked up at Legolas. The fair elf was positively beaming. She felt her heart flutter ridiculously and mentally admonished herself even as she felt her complexion flush.

Legolas watched in amusement as her cheeks turned an even brighter pink than the wind had made them. He smiled at her. Her actions delighted and confused him at the same time. But one thing he was certain of was the mood she had put him in.

After last night's failed attempt to capture Gollum, he had felt a great deal of frustration. That creature had caused him nothing but woe for too long now. He knew Aragorn felt a similar irritation, but it could not compare with his own sense of failure. After all, had it not been tasked to his people to guard the creature? They had failed in that. _He_ had failed. And this knowledge still ate at his conscience.

But now his spirits were lifted and he was grateful to Lana, for with a simple gesture she chased away his dismal mood. Today they would travel further down the Anduin to lands he had only heard of but never seen. And with him would go his friends and this charming woman who, in his mind, revealed herself to a refreshing breath of purity in these evil days.

After consuming a quick breakfast of _lembas_ bread and water, the Fellowship set out on the river. The Anduin alternated between narrow and swift, to wide and lazy. They traveled on. This day they paddled for longer intervals instead of relying only on the water's current to carry them. Aragorn was determined to make good time, and they were making it.

Most were silent again as they traveled. Lana studied her Sindarin notes for a while. As she did so, she listened to her noisy device. Sometimes her fingers or foot would tap in rhythm to whatever she was listening to. Occasionally she would faintly hum along to a refrain in an abstracted way.

Legolas' strong hearing could pick up the soft music and the singing voices from time to time. Enchanted by it, he called out several times to Lana to ask what she was listening to, but he was ignored each time.

"I don't think she can hear you, laddie," Gimli grunted over his shoulder.

There was impatience in his voice, although it wasn't due to Legolas' attempts to get Lana's attention. He was not pleased with being confined in a narrow vessel on a wide fast river for days on end.

Legolas answered. "I think you are right, Gimli."

Several hours later, Lana gave a hearty sigh and removed her earbuds. The fog had broken, but the skies were grey and looked ominous.

"You sigh so heavily. Whatever is the matter?" Gimli asked curiously.

Lana turned sideways to face the dwarf. Lifting the little contraption she frowned at it. "The battery died. I can't listen to my music anymore." Grimacing she pulled out the portable charger.

This thing wouldn't last much longer either, she mused sadly. Plugging in her phone, she put both items back into her bag.

"I feel like the farther we go the more I seem to lose pieces of my home," she continued sadly.

Gimli cocked his head and then put a gloved hand on her arm. "'Tis true that you may lose some things on the way, but you gain things here as well," he told her.

"Gimli is right," Legolas replied, his soft melodic voice contrasting with the dwarf's thick brogue. "You have gained an entire new world to explore and many new friends who welcome you into their lives."

Lana gave them a sad smile, but she was grateful for their kindness. Suddenly her eyes widened in astonishment. She looked back and forth between the elf and dwarf incredulously.

"Did you two just agree on something?"

Legolas and Gimli looked at each other in shock. Then the dwarf crossed his arms over his chest. "It appears that we have. _Humph!_ Though don't expect _that_ to ever happen again!"

"Indeed!" Legolas retorted. "An elf and a dwarf agreeing? Unheard of!" He cried and then put his full attention on steering the boat.

Lana chuckled. Perhaps there was hope for these two yet.

o0o

The sky cleared that evening and it was dyed a series of pale roses and oranges, gradually fading to indigo. It lifted the Fellowship's spirits after a day of haze and monotone grayness. The air was slightly warmer as well.

There had been no sign of Gollum, but everyone remained on their guard. Aragorn still felt uneasy and knew from experience that a seemingly peaceful mien could be deceiving.

After setting up camp, Lana crept away moving further up the shore to be alone. All was still except for the moving of the river. Removing her cloak she set it on a nearby rock. Then she rolled up the sleeves of her elven-made shirt and crouched by the water.

It was freezing, but she cupped her hands anyways and splashed her face with it. It shocked her out of her stupor. She desperately wished she had a washcloth and soap, but clean water was better than nothing.

Drying her face on the edge of her tunic she sighed. She was about to roll her sleeves down when she caught sight of the jagged scar that blemished her left forearm. It ran from her elbow to just a few inches above her wrist. Crossing it were numerous small scars from the stitches that had held the ghastly wound closed.

She touched the old injury, her fingers tracing the depression left behind. The discolored skin still felt wrong to her though it was several years old now.

"That is quite a scar. Were you in a battle?"

Lana jumped at the unexpected interruption of her solitude. Thrown off balance, she pitched forward and nearly fell face first into the water. If it were not for the strong arms that suddenly grasped her and pulled her back, she would have fallen into the river. Stumbling none too gracefully with a grunt into a solid body, Lana quickly found her feet.

Swearing she pushed against the intruder and spun to face him. "What the fuck, Legolas! You can't go around sneaking up on people! Not everyone has super hearing you know!"

Legolas stood in the fading light, his blond hair looking more silver than gold as the moon rose. His fair face held an expression of alarm and apprehension. His eyes were wide and both brows were lifted. He watched as she made hastily for her cloak. Her movements were quick but clumsy. She nearly tripped in her mad dash for the garment.

"Theodore-fucking-Roosevelt," she snarled under her breath as she stumbled.

"I did not mean to startle you. At times I forget that not everyone can hear my approach," he said apologetically wondering why she was behaving like this.

"Yeah, well, don't fucking do it again," she snarled in annoyance.

She fumbled with the clasp of her cloak. Legolas gazed at her in complete puzzlement. He had never seen her like this before. In that past he had approached her unawares, and while she had been startled, she had never acted like _this_.

"I will try to remember to alert you to my presence in the future," he said, as she still struggled to clasp the Lórien leaf brooch at her neck. Stepping forward carefully he touched her arm with care.

"I did not mean to intrude, but Aragorn was worried," he explained softly but with urgency. "You should not wander even if the night is still. _I dhelu mista." It is dangerous to stray._

Lana snorted and gave him a less than enthused look. "Well _excuse me_ for being dirty and wanting to wash my face. You obviously wouldn't know anything about dirt," she shot unreasonably at him.

Legolas frowned. What in Elbereth's name had gotten into her? Why was she behaving like this? Then he realized that she was attempting to divert his attention away from the scar on her arm.

Catching and holding her gaze he murmured, "You are ashamed of that scar." He glanced down at her arm and one of his fingers gently traced the jagged edge of the old injury. Lana jerked away from his touch as if it burned.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," she said darkly. There was a warning in her voice, but Legolas did not heed it.

Feeling piqued now himself, he grabbed her wrist and gently pulled her around so he could look her in the eye. There was deep turmoil there, and a glaring pain. It scowled at him much like a cornered beast. He felt his annoyance drain away only to be replaced with concern.

"You hide it from the eyes of others," he continued in a softer tone, holding her gaze questioningly. Something was wrong and he wanted to help.

"You definitely have no idea. Let me go!" She commanded and pulled on her arm.

Legolas only released her for fear that he might hurt her. He watched as she tugged the sleeves of her tunic firmly over both arms. Then she pulled her cloak around, covering not only the scar but her entire body.

"You conceal it as if it offends you," Legolas said perplexed. Mortals often boasted of their battle wounds. So why didn't she? Her actions made no sense to him.

"Yeah well, it _does_ _offend_ me," she hissed through clenched teeth.

The anger had come out of nowhere. White hot and blinding, and just as suddenly tears appeared in her eyes. She quickly blinked them away, swearing again.

Legolas stood utterly still, uncertain of what to say or do. To assume he was surprised by her actions was an understatement. This was wholly unlike her.

"I did not mean to upset you," he whispered sensitively.

Lana exhaled heavily and some of the tension left her body. Taking a deep breath, she glanced down to where her arm was hidden under the cloak. Then she looked to Legolas. He was looking at her with his bright eyes shining with concern. Slowly Lana began to shake her head.

"Legolas," she said dejectedly. Then she paused gathering her thoughts. "_You_ didn't make me angry." She held his gaze now with more serenity—but the deep sorrow was still present too. "I made myself angry…as did the memory of this."

She gestured to her left arm, hidden beneath the folds of her tunic and cloak.

"It is a reminder of something that happened before…in the past," she admitted with some difficulty.

"Something you do not wish to speak of," the elf sadly understood.

She dropped his gaze, looking away. Her eyes watched the water as if looking at him caused her pain. The fading light seemed to take all the spirit out of her and she was left with nothing more than husk of herself. It was disheartening for the elven warrior to see.

"I'm not ready," she whispered brokenly.

Legolas regarded her now slumped, defeated posture. The immense agony in her eyes was difficult for him to bear. Her anguish swirled around them both like a riptide, and he felt trapped by the roiling of pain, fear, and helplessness. It made him want to reach out and comfort her.

Acting on this urge he lifted his arm thinking to rest his hand on her shoulder, but she backed away again. He quickly lowered his hand to his side. Distress infused his spirit at her refusal.

She had seen the look of pain in his eyes, and it made her guilty. But she couldn't do anything about it. Not now. Maybe never. Shaking her head as tears gathered and she whispered, "I'm sorry."

She brushed past him quickly returning to camp.

Legolas stood as still as a statue. The wind off the water fingered his long hair as he watched her go. He felt a strange emotion that he could not quite place, watching her walk away from him. Dropping his head he sent a silent prayer up to the Valar that peace and friendship would be restored between him and Lana.

o0o

The next day there was tension in the small boat carrying Legolas, Gimli, and Lana. The dwarf could feel it lingering around him, and he bet that he could cut through it with his ax. Something had happened between Legolas and Lana, he was sure of it. But as curious as he was, he did not dare ask what was wrong.

The sighting of many birds to the north around midday alerted the Fellowship to possible trouble. Feeling that they were being watched, it was decided that the company would rest for the remainder of the day. They would continue on under the cover of night instead. Beneath the shade of the few trees and shrubbery that grew on the surrounding landscape, they rested.

All took note of the change in Lana and Legolas. The elf had been more loquacious as of late, speaking a great deal to Lana and to his companions. And she conversed with him quite a bit in return. But now each was silent.

Lana ignored Legolas completely while the elf would cast lingering glances in her direction, waiting patiently for something to happen. But not once did she speak to him.

Aragorn didn't plan on intervening, but he could not stand the tension. It was disrupting and they could not afford distractions—especially not their lookout. He accosted the Mirkwood elf and they spoke softly in Elvish off to the side. Legolas was at first reluctant to tell the Ranger what the problem was, but the man persisted.

"Did you say something that she did not like?" He asked.

While Legolas was extremely well mannered and intelligent, Aragorn knew he lacked when it came to the fairer sex. Once, the Ranger had witnessed two young _ellyth_ formally of Rivendell approach Legolas in Mirkwood.

Thranduil's son had been polite with greetings but ignored the maidens when he realized they were interested in him in ways that he could not, nor wished to, reciprocate. Ever the warrior, Legolas had shunned any nuance of courtship. The interaction ended as a misunderstanding, leaving the elf maidens insulted and Legolas upset that he had offended them unintentionally. Aragorn wondered if Legolas had insulted Lana somehow by accident.

"I do not believe it was words that upset her," the elf finally revealed in a depressed tone.

Aragorn watched as Legolas lowered his head, looking remarkably crushed. He found this behavior unusual. Little did he know that it would only grow worse as time passed.

"Explain."

"Yesterday, you had been worried about her whereabouts so I went in search of her," Legolas began quietly. "I happened upon her as she was washing by the river. A mighty scar on her left arm caught my attention. I lingered on it, but she would not tell me where she obtained it. She became angry and hid it from my eyes."

Aragorn saw the hurt and grief in his friend's face.

"Something has happened to her, Aragorn. I felt her pain and it was not of the body. That sort of pain has long since passed. Another hinders her, deep in her spirit."

"A scar caused this tension between you?" The man couldn't keep the astonishment out of his voice.

"Aye. She acted strangely when I found her, and even more so when I spoke of the scar. She was volatile and unlike herself."

Aragorn glanced to where Lana lay dozing under the shade of a tree. Her back was turned towards them.

"We don't know her well enough to recognize what her true self is," Aragorn admitted sadly.

_"Istan he farn,"_ Legolas said firmly causing Aragorn to lift a brow. _I know her well enough._ "This was not like her. Something happened to her and she was upset that I discovered a piece of her past."

The Ranger sighed. "It might be best to distance yourself from her," he said. Legolas made to protest, but Aragorn held up a hand.

"Let her come to you," he counseled. "When she is ready to tell you what happened—and not before. If you sensed heartache from her she may still be healing from whatever foul deed befell her." He glanced thoughtfully at the woman again. "She has been hiding it well all this time."

Legolas nodded.

_"He estel le, mellon nín,"_ Aragorn said sincerely. _She trusts you, my friend._ He put a comforting hand on the elf's shoulder. "She will come when she is ready."

Legolas nodded again, feeling hope rekindle at Aragorn's words. The man patted his shoulder and then left him to his thoughts. He gazed at the mortal woman who dozed lightly, then shifted his gaze to the east.

There was a darkness hovering in the far distance: a black smudge on the horizon…_Mordor_. Legolas tightened his jaw. There was the Ring to destroy and a long journey before it was all over. His friendship with Lana would mend with time—and the Ring would be demolished.

Hope would not be lost.

* * *

_Thoughts? Like it? Hate it? Want more? Did you find a typo? Let me know! _

_As always thanks for reading!_


	16. The Falls

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story. **

I make no claim to Tolkien's works_._ I also give credit to Cormak3032.

* * *

**Chapter 15: The Falls**

Once the sun had set the group embarked once more. The sky was clear but moonless. It was cold again too. The boats remained close together for safety in the darkness. It gave Lana a strange disconnected feeling. She could hear the water, but not see it except when snatches of starlight caught on a crest. Everything was reduced to a bizarre almost two-dimensional plane since, without light, depth perception was almost non-existent.

"Our pace shall be slower than it has been," Aragorn announced. "I have not traveled this far on the Anduin. There could be danger in the water."

"This is madness!" Boromir exclaimed in protest. "Traveling by night on a section of unknown river! The falls of Rauros could be near and we could all perish in the falling water!"

"The falls are not near. I would hear them and I do not," Legolas said coming to Aragorn's aid.

"We must keep a sharp watch and try not to paddle swiftly," Aragorn said. Then he leaned forward, putting a light hand on Sam's shoulder. "Would you keep watch, Sam, for rocks and other dangers?"

The sandy-haired hobbit nodded somberly. His eyes were wide and it plain to see he did not like this situation one bit. Still he kept a sharp eye. Lana sympathized with him, but she felt oddly excited by the night adventure. Memories of theme-park rides were triggered in her memory, and she had that anticipatory thrill that came when cracking up a roller-coaster.

The stars brightened overhead as the night wore on. Their soft glow offered little light though. Samwise remained hunched forward, his eyes scanning what he could see. It was just after midnight when Legolas shifted uneasily within his boat. Moments later Sam cried out.

"There's a current dead ahead that swings left directly into the rocks!"

At that moment the calm water began to quicken and the rushing water grabbed the boats.

"Turn! Turn if you can!" Aragorn shouted above the foaming rush.

If they did not move, the current would throw the boats upon the sharp rocks of the eastern shore. And that was no place to be! Yet for all their struggling it felt as if they weren't moving at all.

Sam gripped the sides of the boat, his knuckles turned white from the force. He couldn't swim as it was and if the boat capsized or hit a rock, he was a goner for sure. He grimaced each time the small elven craft rose on a wave and then dove down into the water again.

"Paddle harder or we shall be driven against the rocks!" Boromir shouted.

He plunged his paddle doggedly into the water, using all his strength to turn his boat from the current. Merry was wishing desperately that he had a paddle and strong arms so that he could help get them out of this mess. Pippin, however, was wishing that he was back home in the Shire: warm, safe, and with a mug of fine ale. This adventure did not agree with his stomach. Frodo gripped the edges of his boat as it scrapped a rock.

Lana felt her heart pounding in an intoxicating mixture of excitement and fear. She had gone white water rafting once before and found it exhilarating. But that had been in the daytime, in an inflated raft, with lifejackets. Now it was pitch dark, the boats were tiny and wooden, and there was nothing to keep her afloat should she fall out. Her fingers held on with an impossible death grip.

The idea of falling into the freezing water was not appealing in the least. A large wave jumped up over the bow smacking her in the face. Sputtering she shook the water from her eyes. This wasn't exciting anymore. For the first time in over twenty-four hours, she turned and looked directly at Legolas.

The elf was paddling with all his strength, repeatedly plunging the oar into the water, but his attention was not on the task. He was gazing out at the eastern shore, his eyes darting back and forth, scanning the woods there, his body taut.

Something was wrong.

Moments later the snapping sounds of bowstrings being released filled the air.

_"Yrch!"_ Legolas called out with disgust.

"Orcs!" Gimli echoed, and he gripped his large battle ax.

Arrows whistled through the air over them and several rained onto the boats. One caused Frodo to cry out as it struck him, but he was unharmed—saved by his _mithril_ shirt. Another went through the hood of Aragorn's cloak only to land in the water. Yet another embedded near Merry's hand. Only one arrow managed to strike the third boat. It thudded into the bow causing Lana to recoil with a gasp.

Her heart leaped into her throat and she instinctively ducked down trying to make herself as small of a target as possible.

"How the hell did they find us?" She cried out.

"Gollum's doing, I'll wager!" Sam shouted bitterly. "And a nice place to choose too! The river seems ready to deliver us right into their arms!"

More arrows whistled overhead, but none struck any of the boats. Instead they fell short of their targets, landing in the water.

Aragorn, Boromir, and Legolas struggled against the current. After what felt like an eternity, but was actually just moments, the boats broke free of the deadly rapids and drifted downstream where the water was calmer. With haste the two men and the elf paddled to the western shore and beneath the overhang of trees, they paused. They were breathing heavily, all except for Legolas who seemed unaffected by the strenuous work.

The Mirkwood elf put down his paddle and took his Lórien bow into his hands. Laying an arrow on the string, he aimed first at the eastern shore, and then swiftly to the south.

"What do you see Legolas?" Aragorn called out anxiously.

But the elf did not answer. There was no need. A crippling fear seized the company with its icy fingers. They remained motionless, jaws dropped open and eyes wide with abject horror. To the south, dark shadows blotted out the stars as they moved swiftly towards them.

Frodo felt a sudden chill and he clutched at his shoulder, where his wound from the Nazgûl suddenly throbbed. Aragorn put a concerned hand on his shoulder then looked to the sky again.

The arrow whistled as it left Legolas' bow. Out the darkness came a shrill cry as the bolt hit its mark at an incredible distance. The sky cleared again, revealing the stars. The shadows had fled. Whatever had come to attack them was gone.

"That was a mighty shot!" Gimli said with awe in his voice.

The dwarf had taken the words right from Lana's mind. She had seen Legolas in action in the mines of Moria, but now with his new Lórien bow, he was unstoppable.

"But who can say what it hit?" Legolas replied in consternation.

Not even his elven eyes had been able to determine what the shadow had been though its evil malice had been unmistakable.

"Does it matter?" Boromir interjected and shivered.

He appeared shaken; his hand gripped the hilt of his sword reflexively. "Whatever it was, it's gone. And good riddance too!"

"Indeed," Aragorn agreed. "This night we must all be sleepless for who knows how many more will come—if any at all. Darkness hides us now but what evil will fall upon us by day, no one knows. Have your weapons close at hand!"

Lana felt a familiar coldness settle into her body. It was the same feeling she had before when…quickly she forced the memory away. Now was not the time to think about _that_. Choosing to rely on her sword, she strapped it to her hip. Next she slipped on her quiver and kept Legolas' old bow near at hand—just in case.

She shivered from the chilly night air. Tonight there was no extra elven cloak to provide warmth and comfort. The only security she had was a cold elven blade in one hand, and an elven bow across her lap. She hoped that she would not have need of either of them.

Most huddled together for warmth and a sense of comfort. All except Legolas, who stood erect, near the tree line. His great bow in his hands and his eyes not once leaving the eastern shore.

The sounds of orcs and other foul creatures had died down, and then faded altogether. The remaining night hours passed by painfully slow. Lana forced herself to stay focused. In her head, she recited first Shakespeare then Wordsworth, then she made up her own verses—anything to keep her mind alert and pass the time.

When dawn came the groggy group set out on the river and paddled with haste. By midday, Aragorn alerted them to the mighty Argonath: enormous statues that towered on each side of the river. They were formidable. In their hands were mighty swords, and each held out a palm to the north as if to say do not pass.

Lana stared up at them in awe. They were of a tremendous size, and the only statues she could think to compare them to would be of those stone pharaohs in Egypt. Even more amazing to think was that these like those ancient sculptures were carved from the rock face without the help of modern tools.

Later in the day, Legolas called out that he could hear the fall of Rauros in the near distance. They were approaching the end of their journey on the great river.

Aragorn led the company to the western shore where there was a sandy beach not far from the roaring falls. A forest loomed behind the shore and marched up a large hill. There was a stone ruin of what looked to be a wall that sat sadly dejected on the sand.

"Tonight we will rest here, for this is Parth Galen, a fair place in the days of old," Aragorn told them. "Let us hope no evil has reached here yet."

Lana helped unload the boats then moved to stand a bit further down the shore to stare in awe at the falls. They were massive, at least two football fields across. She wished she could see them from below. A cool mist rose up, kissing her face.

She stood there for a while. Her troubled heart was soothed by the sound of the water. Ever since she was a child she had been drawn to water. It was life-giving, cleansing, and pure. When she had found herself broken by her experiences water soothed her into serenity.

After fifteen minutes, she returned to the camp where the hobbits had started a fire. She smiled faintly in acknowledgment as Merry and Pippin made room for her. They were chattering excitedly about bacon and fried tomatoes. She had to admit, that sounded wonderful.

_Lembas_ had lost their novelty.

Across from the hobbits and Lana sat Gimli. He looked gruff and unsettled as he poked a long stick into the flames. In fact, much of the company was subdued but Lana chalked it up to exhaustion more than anything else. This constant vigilance would wear on even the hardiest soldier.

When the food was ready, Lana found that she could only stomach a little. As delicious as it smelled, her gut was twisted up in knots of anxiety once more. She snuck a covert glance at Legolas. The elf was standing rigidly, his focus fixed on the trees. They had yet to reconcile. Lana would be happy to just brush the incident at the riverside away, but she was learning that Legolas was stubbornly persistent. He was not one to leave things unfinished. It was an admirable quality until it became annoying. _And intrusive._ She shushed her inner voice. Swiftly she diverted her gaze before anyone could catch her peeking at the Mirkwood warrior.

Feeling tired she dozed lightly in the shade. Sam seemed to have the same idea. The rest of the Fellowship meandered about, but Lana didn't pay them any attention. She had been awake for over twenty-four hours now, and her body and emotions were spent.

Dimly through her cat-nap she heard Aragorn speaking.

"We'll cross the lake at nightfall," he said carrying up some supplies from the boats and depositing them on the shore. "Hide the boats and continue on foot. We approach Mordor from the north."

"Oh yes?" Gimli interjected, perturbed. "Just a simple matter of finding our way through Emyn Muil? An impassable labyrinth of razor sharp rocks."

The dwarf's description roused Lana enough to pay attention. Pippin paused in his chewing looking rather unenthused by this information.

"And after that, it gets even better!" Gimli groused. "Festering, stinking, marshland as far as the eye can see."

"That is our road," Aragorn said in a straightforward manner. "I suggest you take some rest and recover your strength, Master Dwarf."

Gimli sputtered at the suggestion. "Recover my—"

Lana ignored the dwarf's bellyaching and watched Aragorn worriedly. This plan…well, who was she to say whether it was good or bad? But she earnestly didn't think she would be going into Mordor! She had hoped that perhaps they would divert to a town or village where there could be a hot meal, a hot bath, and a decent bed. That did not appear to be the plan, however.

A movement caught her attention. Legolas had shifted from surveying the woods and moved to Aragorn's side.

"We should leave now," he urged in undertone.

"No. Orcs patrol the eastern shore. We must wait for the cover of darkness," the Ranger replied.

Legolas glanced uneasily into the trees. "It is not the eastern shore that worries me."

At those words, Aragorn ceased his packing and focused on the elf. Lana pushed herself upright to better hear.

"A shadow and a threat have been growing in my mind. Something draws near," he turned back to Aragorn, boring him with his keen eyes. "I can feel it."

Lana swallowed and glanced at the woods with growing disquiet. Legolas was ill at ease, and despite her ignoring him, she still depended on his intuition. If he was worried then something must be coming.

Merry returned then from gathering firewood. The sound of him dropping the kindling startled Lana and she looked at him. He dusted his hands on his trousers and glanced about.

"Where's Frodo?" He asked with a frown.

At Merry's question, Sam roused and looked about with grave concern. "Where is he? Where did he go? Mr. Frodo!" He asked panicked.

Everyone started searching for clues that might point to the Ring-bearer's direction. Aragorn then became very still, his eyes drawn to an empty bedroll and a shield.

Boromir was missing as well.

Uneasily he said, "We should spread out to find them."

Lana pushed herself to her feet frowning. "How did they both slip away without anyone noticing?"

"I do not know, but we must find them. I do not want Boromir alone with Frodo," the Ranger intoned gravely.

Splitting into groups, Lana ended up with Legolas and Gimli. She benched the tension she felt with the elf and set herself to looking for useful clues. They searched the hillside for over a half hour with no success.

"Can't you hear them Legolas?" She panted, trying to not let her frustration show. Her legs and back bothered her from sitting in the boat for days. And now this hike through the woods was doing her no good either. It felt like they were walking in circles as well. She was tired of looking for Frodo and Boromir and was growing more irritated by the minute.

"Nay, I hear no sign of them, nor do I see any tracks," he replied.

Sighing in exasperation, she failed to notice the vexation that had crept into the elf's tone. What good was superior hearing if he couldn't find who they were looking for?

Legolas shifted uneasily. His brows were drawn low over his eyes. "Something is not right," he said softly.

"You have a talent for stating the obvious, lad," Gimli told him dryly.

The dwarf was trudging along using his ax as a walking stick. Lana followed after both of them, wishing for painkillers or a stiff drink. Preferably both.

Unexpectedly Legolas froze. His posture reminded Lana of a deer who had stopped upon hearing a disturbance in the woods. She swore that if his ears could move they would be spinning back and forth as he detected sounds.

Lana moved to his side, touching his arm with concern.

"What is it? What do you hear?"

Her heart sped up. When Legolas grew concerned, so did she. He tore his attention away from the distant sounds and looked down at them both. He was at once tense and excited. Adrenaline flooded his body.

"Ready your weapons," he said in a low voice that made Lana shiver. He tested the string on his bow and then said, "They are coming."

* * *

_Are you excited? Biting your nails? Hang in there! _

_As always, thanks for reading! _


	17. Breaking of the Fellowship

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.**

I make no claims on Tolkien's works. I also give credit to Cormak3032.

* * *

**Chapter 16: The Breaking of the Fellowship**

Lana opened her mouth to clarify who it was that was coming, but Legolas sprinted off into the woods like a stag. His long blond hair and cloak trailing behind him. Blinking she looked to Gimli.

His brown eyes gleamed and he hefted his ax. "Yes!" He cheered. "Come on, lass!" He cried then charged after the elf.

Lana stood there stupidly wondering just what exactly was going on. Moving to follow them she froze after a dozen paces. It wasn't Frodo or Boromir that Legolas had heard. It was something very different; and it put the fear for her life into her very soul.

In the distance, she could hear it. A battle. There was the clash of weapons, shouts and grunts and growls. Lana couldn't move. She knew she should be racing after her friends to help them, but her feet wouldn't obey.

Then she realized she was completely alone and the fighting was getting closer. Suddenly mobile again she took off after the elf and dwarf. Racing past trees and through the undergrowth she called out for them.

"LEGOLAS? GIMLI?" She cried for the fifth time. "Fuck. Where are you?" She spun around trying to find their trail. A dark foreboding feeling welled up in her when she received no reply.

"Damn-damn-damn-DAMN! Where are you guys? ...Please…please answer…" She murmured to herself.

She hated to admit it, but she was terrified. This wasn't like the battles she had seen at home. There were no bullets or explosions. At least she knew what to do when confront by those! No, she was alone with those demon-creatures somewhere in the woods around her.

Feeling abandoned she bit her lip trying to calm her mind enough to think through her situation rationally. Instinctively she knew panicking would only make things worse. She tried calling again, but there was no reply. A new thought bloomed in her mind. What if her calls attracted the enemy? She swallowed hard at that. Backing up slowly against a tree she rested her hand on the hilt of her sword.

"I am not afraid," she declared with more determination than she felt. Her hand tightened on her sword. "I've been through battles before. I've been trained. Just keep a level head," she continued to coach herself.

_I am not afraid…_

o0o

Legolas raced under the arched ruins of Amon Hen firing his great Lórien bow with precise accuracy. The beasts fell under a rain of golden fletched arrows. The elf's eyes gleamed brightly as he whipped around using his weapon to deadly effect. These creatures were nearly twice the size of those he had seen in the past. And they were far stronger. But they were no match for the elven warrior.

Aragorn was slashing away at the monstrous orcs with vicious strokes. These "uruk-hai," as Celeborn had called them, were not intimidated by the Ranger nor Legolas. They swarmed the hillside in alarming numbers.

"Where are they? Let me at 'em!" Gimli roared as he jumped into the fray.

His ax whirled and hacked with amazing dexterity for one so short. He was his own maelstrom of death. Legolas felt a trickle of relief knowing that Gimli had his back. No matter their differences, Legolas knew he could count on the stout warrior. _Better to have a dwarf cover you than an orc blade!_

Moving in a continuous ballet of deadly intent his bow sang with the twang of battle. Glancing up Legolas saw Aragorn trying to break away from the pack that swarmed around them. Doubtless he meant to help Frodo and the hobbits who Legolas had seen descending the hill. He shot a clear path for the man.

"Aragorn, go!"

The Ranger moved quickly out of the way while his companions kept the enemy engaged.

Using his arrows like knives, Legolas stabbed at any uruk that came too close to shoot. The enemy fell at his feet. The elf was a svelte killing machine. Nothing could get close to him.

o0o

The sounds of battle seemed to be getting closer. Lana shivered debating her next move. Her worst fears were becoming a reality. Her friends were fighting for their lives, and she… _W__ell I can't just stand here like a fucking coward!_ She thought angrily.

"I have to do something," she muttered aloud. "They're just orcs. I can do this. I've done it before. And I've been in worse situations," she reminded herself. Steeling her resolve, she drew out her sword. The metallic hiss sent a shiver of electric anticipation through her body.

"Besides, Aragorn believes in me—and Gandalf did too. I got this,"

Inhaling deeply she turned around the tree she had been hiding behind and started jogging up the hill. Hearing a branch snapping behind her, she whirled with sword raised. Suddenly something collided into her from up the hill.

She let out a muffled shriek and nearly fell over. "Theodore-fucking-Roosevelt!" She looked up and then let out a shaky laugh. "Frodo! Oh thank God! I'm so glad it's you!"

Frodo looked just as startled as she did. His hair sported leaves and debris from his tumble into her. His bright blue eyes were wide and he was out of breath.

"The enemy is in the woods!" He gasped. "I must escape!"

Realizing this was her chance to do something helpful while not pitting her life against those creatures she quickly said, "I'll go with you." She straightened up, taking her newfound responsibility to protect the Ring-bearer seriously.

"You cannot. I must do this alone." He told her emphatically. "The others are back in the woods." He gestured up the hill. "They need help." With that, he darted down the hill without looking back.

"Frodo? Frodo wait!"

Lana shook her head utterly confused. It seemed like suicide to break up like this. Surely he would get killed or captured going alone! And what did he mean he had to do this alone? But he was gone before she could do anything. Her mind jumped with indecision. Then snarling aloud she gripped her sword.

"Fucking-A! I'll go help those who want it," she said bolstering herself once more.

Frodo had said the others needed help. Fine. Far be it from Lana Rey to leave her friends in want of help! She moved as quickly and as quietly as she could back up the hill.

o0o

No matter how many uruk-hai he slayed, more continued to come. Out of arrows, Legolas switched to his beech-hilted long knives. The keen elvish steel bit easily through flesh, cutting throats and splitting exposed midsections.

Gimli continued to hack with gusto at any uruk that came too close. Aragorn fought with incredible stamina, forcing his way down the hill. But the enemy's sheer numbers prevented him from reaching his goal.

Legolas dashed about nimbly, snagging arrows from his victims and putting them into his quiver. Once he had enough, he started firing again. Eventually they made headway, or perhaps their enemy just moved on, not terribly interested in bringing them down. Gimli dealt with two at once while one latched on to Aragorn's neck, trying to suffocate him.

In a flash, Legolas fired an arrow into the back of the uruk-hai's neck. Howling it fell to the ground where Aragorn slit its throat. There was a momentary reprieve as the uruk-hai skirted the warriors and moved downhill.

Suddenly a horn blared a few short deep notes. Legolas' ears perked. "The Horn of Gondor!"

"Boromir!" Aragorn exclaimed breathlessly. He pushed past the elf and dwarf and rushed down the now cleared hillside.

That horn would never sound unless there was dire peril. Perhaps Frodo had not made his escape and Boromir called for reinforcement. Whatever the case, Aragorn was off like a greyhound; fear pushing his body to new lengths.

Gimli let out a groan and lowered his ax, taking a moment to regain his breath. Glancing around at the destruction he frowned. He turned and looked behind him then scanned the forest all around. Then his eyes fell on Legolas.

"Where's Lana? I don't see her."

The elf tensed and began searching about as well. There was no sign of the mortal woman anywhere.

"She did not follow us up the hill!" He realized with horror. He and Gimli had been so ready for action that they had not checked to see if she had followed them. "I assumed that she was behind us."

"As did I," Gimli replied with grim dismay.

Legolas felt a cold fist of dread wrap around his innards. Drawing an arrow, he fought down the sudden panic that threatened his composure. Fear gripped his heart mercilessly and not for a single moment did he wonder at the strength of his concern.

"We must find her. Come, Gimli!" He darted down the eastern side of the hill.

Gimli followed quickly behind, dreading the worst.

o0o

Lana was still running towards her friends when the enemy found her. She was not expecting these hulking, atrocious creatures. They looked like something out of a demented comic book. Large muscular bodies with mottled grayish-black skin were covered in mangy hair. Long nasty dreads fell over their shoulders, and their armor was a hodgepodge of leather and iron, and other things she dare not identify.

Most sported a primitive white hand that looked like it had been crudely painted by their own clawed fingers. The smell of them was putrid, and Lana swallowed down the bile that burned at the back of her throat, then coughed.

Spotting her, they circled around preventing any escape. Terrified, Lana fumbled with her bow. She struggled to put an arrow to the string, and when at last she succeeded, it went wild. In fact, not a single shot she fired hit its mark. The notion that she was wasting the beautiful arrows that Haldir had given her didn't even cross her mind.

The beasts laughed and easily dodged her attempts. One even caught a shot in mid-air and broke it easily with a single hand. A continuous stream of swearing passed her lips. She forgot everything that Legolas had drilled into her. She held the string with two fingers instead of three; she didn't set the arrows correctly on the string before firing; and she didn't stand properly. To top it off she was shaking so badly that it was a miracle that any of the arrows flew at all.

Reaching back her fingers swept through empty air. "No…please, no!" She moaned in horror.

She glanced back quickly and saw that she was out of arrows. Realizing with panic that she would have to fight hand to hand, she lost her grip on the bow. It fell to the ground, useless.

The uruk-hai tightened the ring around her, growling, howling, and lathering like demonic gorillas. Their gruesome weapons were dripping with some kind of dark liquid. She dare not image what it could be.

Gripping her elven sword, Lana held it front of her with two hands. She felt dizzy and numb as the creatures clustered around her. Her heart was racing so fast that she started to hyperventilate.

The thought of running away entered her mind too late. Fear prevented her from thinking straight. Somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind her logical self was screaming at her, _Do Not Panic!_ But it was too late. She was already scared shitless.

And now there was nowhere to run.

They taunted her, leering and laughing; making crude gestures that made her body quiver with revulsion. Some raised their weapons to the sky in triumph, and others pounded their chests. Their broken, yellowed, rotted teeth flashed in a sick mimic of a smile.

"Yer certainly no halfling," one of them jeered. "Not a halfling at all," he laughed. Spit flew from his mouth. "Lurtz may want to have some fun with this one," he cajoled to his comrades. "Though he might be disappointed by 'er lack of spirit."

Grinning evilly, he stepped forward and bared his crooked teeth at Lana. "Mortal women are so easy to break," he sneered.

The others laughed, stomping their feet and raising their weapons in rhythm together. She knew that had been their intent, but actually hearing this sick demon speak of raping women made her stomach roil. Hot anger shot through her then like an injection of ephedrine.

_Never again!_

"You can't break something that's already been broken!" She shouted at them vehemently. "They are remade all the stronger!"

She leveled her deadliest glare on the beast before her. "Come any closer and I'll slit your throat like the fucking pig you are! I'll hack that ugly head of yours right off—and not just the one on your shoulders! I'll castrate you like a fucking bull!"

Perhaps it was foolish of her, maybe even suicidal, but she didn't care. An evocative feeling was coursing through her and she felt dangerous and so desperate to live! Something awoke in her—a desire for blood—for revenge. Although it wasn't this creature whose blood she wanted to see. Another face floated in her consciousness.

_Never fucking AGAIN!_

The putrid creature laughed at her. "Oi! Per'aps she 'as some spirit after all, boys!"

He stepped closer, his girth and height dwarfing her. He was a good two to three feet taller than her. His spiked teeth were revealed in a lascivious leer and she wanted to punch them out.

Lana swung her sword at him with all her might. He caught the blade easily, grinning down at her. She stood in shock for a moment then viciously pulled back, slicing beast's hand open. He howled and shook the offended appendage.

Then he charged her, knocking her sword from her grip. His fist connected solidly with her cheek. Stars exploded before her eyes and she stumbled back dazed. All around her was a roiling sea of black bodies, jeering, and slathering in a frenzy. She felt a hand jerk something on her hip. _My knife!_ The uruk seemed to admire the blade for a moment before making a disgusted face and toss it aside.

"Elf-craft!" He spat.

Her eyes grew wide as she realized that she was weaponless. These creatures would continue to torment her and then violate her. Trying to find an escape she back-pedaled until her spine hit a tree.

Over the high-pitched ringing in her ears the laughter of the enemy filled her senses. Before she could recover from the blow, the leader lashed out and grabbed her neck. He squeezed. Hard. And lifting her, he dragged her close to his body.

Immediately Lana's fingers dug into his, trying desperately to pry them off. He shook her like a doll then slammed her into the tree behind her. Her head smacked sickeningly against the trunk. Still fighting Lana gagged and gasped. Kicking out she beat his legs and knees with her feet but her struggles had no effect on the demon. He didn't release her. If anything he squeezed harder.

"Per'aps we won't give ya to Lurtz, bitch. Per'aps I'll just kill ya me-self. Just fer fun," he laughed in her face.

Hellish laughter resounded around them. He shook her again. Lana began to feel the world closing in around her. Light-headed her last coherent thought was that she was going to die: alone, abandoned, and raped in a strange world that wasn't her own. She was going to die.

She made one final attempt to peel the thick fingers from her neck, but her efforts were just paltry now. Tears leaked from her eyes.

The world was growing dark. She missed the vicious gleaming in the beast's eyes, nor did she feel his tongue on her face or his other hand feeling up her behind. All sensation was leaving her except the pounding of her desperate heart.

An instant later the creature shrieked and let her go. Lana collapsed to the ground coughing and choking. Glancing up dazedly she saw an arrow embedded in the creature's face. The sharp silver tip was sticking out from his forehead coated in black gore. The body quivered then lay motionless.

Still lying on the earth, Lana turned her face and tried to move away. Gagging she spit up blood and mucus. She had no idea what happened. It was all she could do to stop the world from spinning wildly out of control. She swallowed and then coughed again. Her throat was raw and it hurt to breath and swallow.

She felt a sticky substance on her face as feeling started returning to her. Wiping her nose with her hand, she only vaguely noticed that it was red. Distantly she heard shouts, shrieking, and yelling. Metal clashed and growls and yips vibrated in the air.

Then all was silent. Except for her raspy breathing.

Something grabbed her and she screeched hoarsely and kicked out with all her might. That something came into contact with her foot.

_"Oof!_ Easy! It's just us, lass!" Said a familiar and deep voice.

Eyes clouded with tears she couldn't see very well, but she recognized the voice. "Gim-li?" She choked with timid relief.

"Aye, lass."

She inhaled shakily, trying valiantly to not sob. Two gentle hands helped her sit upright. Hastily she wiped at the tears that continued to fall on the sleeve of her tunic. She grimaced seeing the fabric soaked with blood and mucus.

Gimli crouched on one side of her, rubbing the hand she had kicked. Legolas materialized then. He knelt on one knee directly in front of her. Both warriors wore expressions of utmost concern.

Legolas' dark brows were drawn together and his light blue eyes bore into her own dark ones. There was an expression of guilt mixed with his concern and now relief. Lana dropped his gaze and continued to wipe her face. She grimaced feeling that her nose was tender. Was it broken? She wasn't sure.

"If we had delayed any longer you would be lost to us," the elf said solemnly.

Slowly Legolas reached towards her and tilted her head to the side. He examined the uruk-hai's handiwork. Large, red finger-shaped marks marred the pale column of the mortal woman's neck. Her right cheek was turning into a vicious blue-purple color that spread from under her eye to her nose. With a feather-light touch, he stroked her neck.

"I feared this," he continued softly.

And he had feared it. All along he had feared that it was not safe for Lana and that something was going to happen. But Aragorn had been confident about her training and even Legolas had let go of his uncertainties about her ability. Yet now confronted with her battered face his heart burned. His fingers continued to gently explore her neck and her face. Lana grimaced when they touched her cheek. Legolas frowned.

"We thought that you were right behind us. What happened?" Gimli demanded. Seeing the woman alive was such a relief to his heart, but now he grew angry. Why did she not keep up?

"I…" she croaked then swallowed with difficulty.

Legolas immediately put a hand on her shoulder and shot Gimli a severe look. "Her throat pains her. Do not make her speak," he commanded sharply.

Lana didn't attempt to finish her sentence. Legolas was upset—angry even. His tone was sharp and she dared not cross him. She wasn't sure if she had ever seen the elf truly angry before. Suddenly he tensed. The muscles along his jaw twitched and his eyes darted behind him.

"What is it?" Gimli asked warily.

"We must help Aragorn and the others. We are needed," Legolas replied urgently.

"You go, lad. I'll stay a moment with the lassie so that she may gather her strength. We'll catch up."

Legolas frowned but didn't argue. Rising quickly he gripped his bow with a firm hand. He took a few light steps and then stopped. Pivoting he leveled another stern look at Gimli. "Do not let her out of your sight," he ordered strictly, casting a single lingering glance at Lana.

Not waiting for the dwarf to reply he departed swiftly. Lana watched him go until he disappeared from sight.

"That was a close call, lass. If his sharp hearing had not picked up the uruks you would have been dead right now."

"Ur-uks?" She croaked.

"Those foul creatures that attacked you. Now do not speak! The elf is in a violent mood and I dare not antagonize him by allowing you to harm yourself further."

He shook his head and then nodded towards the dead and bloodied bodies that lay scattered on the leaves of the forest floor. Lana felt too numb to feel anything as she looked over the carnage. Some of the uruks were missing limbs. Others had arrows driven through their flesh. Blood and entrails littered the forest floor. Lana felt bile burn the back of her throat.

When her eyes finally settled on the one that had been choking her she inhaled in shock. He had been mutilated far worse than any of the others. His head had been severed and it lay several yards away from his body in a pool of black blood. The arrow in his head had been driven right through his brain. He died with a look of utter agony on his face.

Lana looked away. It was a gruesome sight. Swallowing back the bile in her throat she rasped out, "Wh—who did that?"

Gimli gave her an austere look. "You aren't supposed to be talking! The elf will have my head, just as he had that fella's if you come to any more harm."

"Le-Legolas did that?" She wheezed in disbelief. Her eyes grew wide. Legolas was ever calm, cool, and collected. If this was his reaction when angry…a shiver ran down her spine.

"Aye, that be his work." Gimli sighed.

Lana didn't know what to think.

"I've been traveling with the elf for months and I have never seen him kill to such an extent before—nor as viciously. That creature there he was particularly brutal with," he said nodding towards the decapitated uruk.

"Shot an arrow clean through his head as he choked you. But that wasn't good enough. After all the other uruk-hai were dead, and that one dead for several minutes, Legolas went back and removed his head with his knives." Gimli looked at Lana somberly then.

"If you want my opinion, I believe the lad was taking his guilt out on the enemy. The elves, they feel things much more strongly than we mortals do; though they usually conceal it well." Gimli rubbed his beard thoughtfully. "Sorrow and guilt, even deep pain of the heart can cripple them. I think the lad let his sentiments get the better of him."

Lana swallowed painfully. "I didn't…know that…about elves," she said with a frown. She touched her throat, the pain causing her as much distress as this newfound information.

"Now you do. But I sympathize with him, for I too feel guilty about all this as well. We did not realize that we had left you behind. I am sorry, lass."

Lana nodded slowly in acceptance. Part of her wanted to say that it was ok. It was her natural reaction. But she didn't. It wasn't ok. But she wouldn't hold a grudge either. It was over, and they all were alive. And she wanted to forget this had ever happened.

Gimli blew out a breath before saying, "Let us gather your weapons and help the others. We have delayed long enough."

He rose hastily and began picking up all her stray arrows. Lana sat where she was still unable to move. Her body felt heavy after so much adrenaline. She was exhausted and in pain. The fact that she had nearly died—again—occupied her thoughts. But then another thought animated her.

"Wh—where are…the others?" She rasped.

Gimli grunted disapprovingly. "No more talking! You've done far too much already."

Clearing her throat roughly, she said, "I—I'm fine." Some of her die-heart resolution was returning.

Her raspy voice did not reassure Gimli, however. The dwarf made a face but didn't argue further. If she was going to talk there was little he could do to stop her. Holding a fistful of arrows and her bow and sword, he moved back to her side. Leaning forward he put the arrows into the quiver on her back. But instead of offering her the bow or sword he held out his hand.

Lana looked at it for a moment and then took it, placing her long thin fingers into his thick stout ones. Gimli helped her to her feet and gently squeezed her hand before releasing it. Handing her the hilt of her sword, she sheathed it. Then she took the bow and secured it to her back.

"Thank you, Gimli," she said smiling a little through her croaky voice.

"Come."

She was shaking worse than a leaf in a strong breeze, which worried the dwarf. He steadied her, making her place her hand on his shoulder for support. She smiled and accepted his aid gratefully. As they walked on her strength returned.

"Where are—" she started to ask, but Gimli interrupted her.

"I know as much as you, lass. Let us follow in the footsteps of that intolerable elf and hope they lead to the others."

Lana sighed and shook her head. "Legolas doesn't…leave…footprints," she rasped.

"You know what I mean," he rumbled.

Lana laughed a bit, but it was rough and raw. The sound of it was grating to Gimli's ears and his heart, but he was pleased to hear it nonetheless.

A silence descended on the woods as they walked. Lana felt stronger after awhile and moved easily on her own. But she moved with trepidation. Gimli felt a dark worry sit in his stomach as well.

"Come, let us go faster, lass. A bad feeling has settled within me."

Lana nodded, feeling it too. It was far too quiet. Something was wrong. She followed Gimli as he began to jog slowly, his armor clanging as he went. Lana kept close to him, feeling suddenly afraid that they were going to be ambushed. Her eyes darted through the trees suspiciously.

When they broke into a small clearing they saw dozens of uruk-hai bodies. There were also remains of stone structures and statues of men. All was crumbling down. The stillness of dead made Lana pause.

Immediately she saw Legolas who stood looking down the slope of the land. Bow in hand, head cocked as if listening intently, he stood otherwise motionless. Hearing their approach, he turned gradually.

Lana was shocked by the look of pure anguish on Legolas' face. His pain was so raw—so strong that she swore she could feel it in the air she breathed. For the first time, the fair elf looked truly weary. His usually impeccable appearance was muddled by grit, blood, and sweat.

She looked at him questioningly, stepping to his side. He turned his gaze and Lana followed it. She gasped and clapped the back of her hand to her mouth.

Several dozen yards ahead was Aragorn…and Boromir. The man of Gondor had been shot. Three times. Black arrows rattled with each desperate breath he took. Aragorn knelt over him, holding his hand in his.

Lana shook her head in denial. "No…" she whispered hoarsely.

Legolas glanced down at her, lips drawn thin at the roughness of her voice. Lana, however, was trying desperately to comprehend what was happening. As much as she disliked Boromir, she never wished death upon him. She watched as one of Aragorn's hands moved towards a shaft, but Boromir stayed him.

He was beyond saving. Even had they access to modern medicine, it would still be uncertain if he would live. Judging by where the arrows landed, Lana was convinced that a lung was pierced; maybe both. Her conflict zone training taught her that there was little that could be done without immediate medical attention. His lungs would be filling up with blood, and he would drown in his own fluids.

As they watched, Aragorn helped the dying man reach his sword. Boromir pulled it to his chest, spoke some words, and then…nothing. Lana closed her eyes, unable to bear the sight.

One would think that she was used to death by now, what with her line of work in her world, and what she had encountered here. But death was not something that was easily dismissed. And she was not yet so jaded that the experience couldn't rip her heart anew. Few words could describe what it was like to watch someone die. They were there, and a moment later they were gone; as fragile as blowing out a candle.

Tears streamed silently from Lana's shuddered eyes as her lips trembled. Both Legolas and Gimli bowed their heads. The harden warriors that they were they did not let any tears fall. Aragorn kissed Boromir's forehead, whispering words of comfort. But they were for naught.

Gradually finding his feet, Aragorn looked up at the sky then to his companions left standing. "They will look for his coming from the White Tower, but he will not return," he said grievously.

Tears ran unabashedly down his face; though he didn't care. Boromir's final words pierced his soul allowing the liquid to pour forth as tears. It was several moments before anyone spoke.

"Where are the hobbits?" Gimli asked at last.

Lana opened her eyes. She felt numb, but Gimli's question jolted her from the haze she descended into.

"I do not know where Sam is. Merry and Pippin were taken by the uruk-hai," Aragorn revealed. "Boromir died trying to save them."

"What?" Lana wheezed in fear. "We have to do something!"

Aragorn frowned as he looked at her. But he did not comment on her appearance or the sound of her voice.

"First we must bury Boromir. We cannot leave him like this."

Lana grimaced. Her frayed nerves caused her to become caustic. "Bury him how?" She gestured around. "We don't have shovels; are we going to dig with our bare hands?" She asked roughly with fresh tears racing down her cheeks.

Aragorn looked down then said, "We will place him in one of the boats and let the Anduin carry him home. It is all that we can do for him." His voice was full of grief. "Gather up his weapons, and those of enemies he slayed," he told her.

Lana did not answer but hugged herself in a desperate attempt at self-possession.

"Did you not hear?" Aragorn said, grabbing her elbow. "We must attend to Boromir and be off. Now."

Her eyes were inscrutable as she looked up into the Ranger's face. Ghosts of her past haunted her bland stare. The only thing he knew for certain was that she was in pain. Deep gut wrenching pain—the kind that attacks the soul, leaving destruction and destitution in its wake. Aragorn had seen that kind of pain before in other faces; by those devastated by evil and left to pick up the pieces.

He thought back to Legolas' words and remembered the rare glimpses into Lana's soul that showed a wounded creature. She was staring at him now, her heart unguarded. Then a righteous anger flickered somewhere in her eyes and she seemed to come slowly back.

Lana inhaled shakily as she held the man's gaze. He, like her, was covered in sweat, blood, and tears. Dirt and grime marred his handsome features. And he looked shaken. With surprise, Lana realized that he was barely holding on to his own composure.

Swallowing thickly she pressed the back of her right hand to her face. It was still bound; a memento left by the man who saw the error of his ways too late.

"Aragorn…I…" she looked around helplessly. "I don't know…"

He let go of her elbow. "You don't know what?" He asked tiredly.

"I don't know how to go on," she croaked. Her throat was already raw and her grief made her choke. "Ho—how many more are going to suffer…and _die_…because of that _fucking Ring?"_

She looked at him desperately. In the dark blue eyes swam with tears and fury…and heartache.

"If we all die but the Ring is destroyed then we will have accomplished what we set out to do. We will have left a future for those who survive."

Lana heard his words. She recognized them as the kind spoken by the desperate. She had heard similar fey words in the past, in another world, and under different circumstances. But they were the same. _There is hope, so long as _they_ survive._ The "they" in this case being the good citizens of Middle Earth.

She shook her head. "And if we don't destroy the Ring? What then?" She goaded. The angry fire in her eyes grew. "First Gandalf, now…Boromir…Merry and Pippin are missing, and we don't even know if they _are_ alive. And what about Sam and Frodo? Who can say where the hell they are!"

Shit had hit the fan as far as she could tell. What could be their next move? What direction did they go? Everything was falling apart at the seams and they seemed grasping at straws.

Aragorn watched as hot angry tears replaced the sorrowful ones. Without warning, she grabbed the front of his tunic and shook him hard.

"What if you're next? Or Gimli? Or…Legolas?" She choked out fiercely.

The Ranger could see her envisioning their deaths. She let go of him roughly and wrapped her arms around herself, trying to hide her face as she bit back a sob. He didn't hesitate to encircle his arms around her. She resisted at first but then latched onto him, shaking with the force of her weeping.

She was silent except for the wheezing gasps for air that shuddered through her. It was as though she was still trying to curb her emotions even as they broke the dam. He closed his eyes as a few tears fell from his own eyes. He held her just as much for his own sake as hers. They were all sacrificing for this quest. Each time someone was lost it brought home just how hopeless their situation was.

Feeling a hand on his shoulder, Aragorn opened his eyes to see Legolas standing beside him. The elf was anguished. Aragorn could feel the loss radiating off of him like heat from a stove. Boromir's death was tearing at the elf's heart. But the door to his heart was still firmly closed lest something escape and crack the warrior's façade.

Gimli was not unaffected. His head was lowered and his shoulders slumped in misery.

Aragorn ran a hand over Lana's messy braid, then rubbed her back trying and sooth her. "Lana, we must go," he whispered into her ear.

He felt her nod against him. She pulled away, wiping her nose on her sleeve. Aragorn studied her face, noticing for the first time the darkening bruise on her cheek, the dried blood under her nose, and the deep red marks on her neck. Concern flooded him, but there was no time to ask. Her wounds were not dire. Painful, but not debilitating. He glanced at Legolas who was watching the woman with grave concern.

"Let us carry Boromir to the shore and give him a decent send-off," Aragorn said.

Lana gathered up the man's shield, sword, and cloven horn along with as many scimitars as she could carry. It was a heavy load, but she bore them without complaint. It was the least she could do for her fallen comrade.

It was with heavy hearts that Aragorn, Gimli, and Legolas prepared Boromir for his water burial. Briefly, after laying his enemy's weapons at his feet, Lana knelt next to his head. Gingerly she stroked the matted hair from his face. He truly was a handsome man she mused. They might not have liked each other but…she sighed and leaned forward.

"I forgive you," she whispered.

Perhaps it was too late, but she hoped his spirit heard her. Then she stood and stepped back as her composure threatened to slip away. She watched as the three others towed boat out to the middle of the river and then released it.

Lana walked along the shore following the vessel. On the wind, she heard snatches of a lament sung by Aragorn and Legolas. The words were lost to her, but the melody carried. Moved, she felt the sudden urge to let her own voice loose. Softly and for the first time in years she allowed a song to pass her lips. It was faint and was quickly lost in the roar of the falls. Not even the bird that had perched above her could hear the faint notes. Yet she sang with a heart full of grief. For Boromir; for her family; for herself.

_And now my charms are all o'erthrown_

_And what strength I have's mine own_

_Which is most faint; now t'is true_

_I must here be released by you_

_But release me from my bands_

_With the help of your good hands_

_Gentle breath of yours my sails_

_Must fill, or else my project fails,_

_Which was to please._

_Now I want Spirits to enforce, art to enchant_

_And my ending is despair,_

_Unless I be relieved by prayer_

_Which pierces so that it assaults_

_Mercy itself and frees all faults_

_As you from your crimes would pardon'd be_

_Let your indulgence set me free._

* * *

_What did you think?_

_Lana sang part of Prospero's speech from the epilogue of Shakespeare's _The Tempest._ I have imagined the music sounding like Loreena McKennit's version (titled Prospero's Speech) in her album The Mask and The Mirror. I highly encourage you to YouTube that song because it' is devastatingly beautiful — at least in my mind._

_Attribution for the words belong to Shakespeare, and the music arrangement belongs to Loreena Mckennit and her company of musicians._

_To hear the song, google Loreena Mckennitt_ Prospero's Speech.

_As always thanks for reading! _


	18. The Race

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.**

I make no claims on Tolkien's works. I also give credit to Cormak3032.

* * *

**Chapter 17: The Race**

Aragorn tightened the leather vambrace embossed with the white tree of Gondor on his arm. He took them in remembrance of Boromir. He took them as a symbolic gesture—he would return and make right Boromir's city. _His_ city. He tugged on the leather, checking its tension.

In the end, Boromir had regained his honor. His eyes had been opened. Alas, that it was too late! With the passage of another member of the Fellowship, Aragorn felt the desperation of their mission mounting.

He glanced at the remaining members his mind struggling between his own heart's grief and his role as leader. Gimli stood leaning on his ax watching the water. Mist clung to his beard, making it frosted. As stout as he looked, his heart was weary with the woe they all shared.

Lana stood further down the shore. She had released her hair from its braid—as a sign of mourning or for some other reason, he did not know. The gilded strands shifted in the moist air only to be weighed back down by the mist. By the way she hugged herself Aragorn knew she was weeping.

Legolas came rushing down the shore pushing the remaining boat back into the water.

"Hurry! Frodo and Sam have reached the eastern shore!"

Aragorn did not reply. He exhaled deeply and rested a hand on the hilt of his sword. Glancing across the water, he could just barely make out the movement of the hobbits before they disappeared into the woods beyond.

Perplexed by their lack of urgency Legolas turned to Aragorn. He watched the man trying to understand his mind. "You mean not to follow them," he realized allowed.

With a heavy sigh Aragorn spoke. "Frodo's fate is no longer in our hands."

Baffled Legolas glanced back over the river then to Gimli and Aragorn.

"Then it has all been in vain," Gimli rumbled dejectedly. "The Fellowship has failed."

Aragorn looked at his two stalwart companions. Then after a moment, he clamped a hand on each of their shoulders he replied, "Not as long as we stay true to each other."

They shared a moment of renewed camaraderie, but it didn't last as they glanced at Lana who still stood off on her own.

"She grieves deeply," Gimli said.

Aragorn nodded.

The dwarf eyed her and continued, "Though she and Boromir had their differences, I do not believe she wished for his death."

"Nay. I do not believe that either," the Ranger replied.

Legolas spoke up. "Surely she is upset that they never had the chance to reconcile."

He observed the mortal woman. She looked so small and alone; her figure almost lost in the spray the rose from the falls. Legolas knew in his heart that she had forgiven Boromir. He had overheard her whispers to the dead man's body though he was certain she had not wished anyone to hear.

"We must push through this dark time," Aragorn said determinedly. "We will avenge him."

Legolas broke his gaze from the woman and turned to Aragorn.

"We have two young hobbits to save," the man said with a grim humor. "Leave all that can be spared behind. We travel light. Let us hunt some orc!"

Aragorn then went to Lana's side, gathering a few supplies that he would take with him. When he stepped up beside her he saw that her eyes were closed. She had washed her face of blood and grit, but her right cheek was turning a puffy dark purple.

Gently he put a hand on her shoulder. For once she didn't jump. Instead she merely she opened her eyes and looked up at him.

"I know you mourn with us, but do not lose hope," he said squeezing her shoulder. "We will save Merry and Pippin from torment and death."

She regarded him carefully. He could see her latching onto his hope and bolstering herself with it.

"There will be much tracking and running," he continued, and almost laughed as a glimmer of her usual self wrinkled her nose at him. "It is good that we trained thusly in Lothlórien. Though for all that I fear it may not be enough. The uruk-hai are strong and fleet of foot."

Lana studied him directly. "Then we must be swifter and stronger," she said inflexibly. The cold determination in her voice was new to the Ranger and he was not sure what to make of it. But it steeled his own hope and resolve.

"We will have little time for rest," he warned.

She nodded. "Then we must go. Now. They already have a head start on us," her pragmatic side said.

"Aye."

She returned with the Ranger. Her head nodded as he instructed her to carry only what she needed. They must be celeritous and light. With resignation, she opened her backpack.

Her notebook, which still bore the damage from her first day in Middle Earth, was thrown into the fire. It was useless now, as were her notes from another world. But that didn't stop her from flipping through the tattered pages one last time, reminiscing.

As she looked at her notes, fragments of interviews, a to-do list, it finally sank in that her old life was truly that. An old life. Another life. Another world. All the friends and all her family were beyond her reach, and they seemed to grow ever further away with each passing day.

Her brush with death and the passing of Boromir unsettled her more than she realized. All she wanted to do was shove it behind her and move forward. She thanked what Powers there might be in this world that there was a task to do. Otherwise, she feared drowning in her own shock and confusion. The mind could only cope with so much; therefore it was a relief of sorts to not have to think.

Already she was focused on saving Merry and Pippin. That's all that mattered. She would do exactly what she had told Legolas back in Lothlórien. She would risk her life to save her friends…or die trying. This eclectic group of people was all she had in this alien world. They were her family now. And she refused to face the future without them.

Her few other possessions were squished tightly at the bottom of her pack. A bag of cosmetics and jewelry was something she refused to part with. Thinking about appearances she knew that she must look like some crazed heathen. But fashion was the least of her worries. She stank of blood, sweat, tears…and death. Internally Lana grimaced wishing desperately for a rinse.

_What I wouldn't give for a hot shower and a soft bed right now,_ she sighed grabbing her sunglasses from their case. _And a ticket out of this mad world._

Forcing the thought to the back of her mind, she quickly pulled her hair into a ponytail. As she rose she turned her back to the fire. She did not watch the notebook burn. Another part of her life gone. She had filled the rest of her pack with _lembas_ and any other dried foodstuffs she could manage. The bedroll and blanket were left behind as well, sacrificing comfort for a lighter load.

Lana looked down at the knife that Gimli handed to her. He had found it dropped by the launch point of Boromir's funeral boat. The graceful weapon seemed to taunt her. Thinning her lips, she recalled the Lady's words: _I believe my gift will cause you turmoil. But fear not, Lana Rey. It will serve you well._

Without further deliberation, she attached it to her belt. Her companions had just finished their own packing. Facing them she lifted her chin and gave them a sad smile that did not reach her eyes.

The sun shone brightly and she donned her sunglasses.

"I'm ready."

There was a somber timbre in her voice but strength also. Aragorn nodded in approval and he lead them back into the woods, chasing after the uruk-hai's trail.

o0o

The landscape changed from wooded forest to barren rocky land as they left the fertile land near the river. The sun was at its zenith, and the rays were hot even though it was only February.

So much had happened so few hours!

At first running was not so difficult. It started off downhill, but the further they ran the wearier Lana became. And she was not the only one. Gimli too started lagging behind, but he was still ahead of her. Sweat trickled down Lana's neck, under her ponytail and she panted like a locomotive.

_I fucking hate running!_ She mentally growled, choosing to use irritation and anger to fuel her fatigued muscles. For hours they ran. Lana thought her heart was going to burst through her chest. The image jogged her memory of a children's book she had read once many years ago. She must have been six or seven.

The book was about the Iditarod dog sled race in Alaska. The main character was a boy and his black sled dog with a white star on its chest. They had entered the race for the prize money so the boy could finally get his sick grandfather the medicine he needed. Through many days of obstacles and setbacks, they came to the finish line. Just a dozen yards short of their goal the dog's heart burst, killing the animal instantly. Heartbroken the boy sobbed over his beloved friend.

The other racers had stopped and would not go further. In the end, the boy carried the body of his dog over the finish line thereby winning the race but losing one of those he loved most. It was a rather tragic children's tale. But the imagery of those last moments of the race stuck with Lana all these years. She wondered if it was possible for the human heart to burst after extended running.

The only thing that kept her going was the thought of sweet Merry and Pippin in clutches of those beasts from hell; and her desire to not be left behind.

The sun ultimately began to set. The sky turned into brilliant colors, but the runners hardly spared a glance. Aragorn knew that Legolas was beside him. The elf rarely showed signs of tiring and continued to run with ease. Aragorn was drained in both heart and body, but he pushed himself to continue. He did not want the hobbits' deaths on his conscience.

Turning to glance over his shoulder he saw the two figures far behind him. Gimli was one of them. The dwarf was fifty yards back. He was struggling; his heavy armor and ax were slowing him down, but he continued doggedly. Further behind him was Lana, moving at a slow jog.

"She is falling behind," Aragorn commented to Legolas.

The elf adjusted his pace just so that he ran in tandem with the Ranger. Throwing a look over his shoulder, he saw Lana. Even though she was far off in the distance he could see her face clearly as if she was just in front of him. She was sweating. Beads of perspiration trickled down her face. She was panting heavily and clutching at the black straps of her blue backpack.

He could not see her eyes due to the strange dark glasses she wore, but he did not need to seem them to know that she was suffering. The evidence was plain enough to see in how she bit her lip hard enough to make it bleed. There were deep grooves on her forehead as she concentrated on moving forward. Her balance was off and she weaved all over the plains.

"She is wearied and in pain," Legolas replied in distress. His brows furrowed as he turned back to Aragorn.

"As we all are, other than you," Aragorn replied.

It was the closest the Ranger would reveal of the true depth of his own exhaustion. His mind was focused on the task at hand: saving the hobbits. And he would not rest until it was necessary.

"We will stop when it is too dark to make out the trail, but that time has not yet fallen upon us. She will have to continue on or she will be left behind." His tone was grim.

Legolas did not reply. He looked ahead into the setting sun and continued to run.

Night finally made the trail indiscernible, and rather than losing their way in the darkness, Aragorn had them halt. Besides, they all were exhausted, save Legolas. The elf was unwinded.

Aragorn would not allow a fire. This only made the night seem all the more dismal and bleak. Lana sat huddled against a large rock, her cloak pulled tightly around herself. She attempted to keep warm, but her body shivered uncontrollably. Coated in residual sweat, she was now chilled to the bone. Her body was visibly shaking as chills and spasms wracked her frame.

Guilt stung the Ranger when he saw her. Though there was nothing he could have done short of leaving her behind. The woman was trembling viciously. Steam rose from her, the result of her heat mixing with the rapidly cooling air. Concerned for her health, he crouched down at her side.

"Are you well?"

Reflexively her body let loose a large uncontrollable shiver and he frowned, his remorse growing. Her eyes were now free from her strange so-called 'sun-glasses.' With blank eyes, she looked up at him. She could see Aragorn's concern, but she didn't give a damn. She was taxed beyond her limit and could only do what her body now demanded of her. Which was nothing.

"I'm fine," she muttered flatly, and lowered her head again, closing her eyes.

In the darkness, it was difficult for him to see her features but he saw the shadow on her right cheek that was not a true shadow, but a darkening bruise. He still had yet to discover how she obtained it though he could guess. He licked his dry lips trying to think of what to say.

"You must eat something. Come, we are going to open a leaf of _lembas_ and drink some water. Join us," he coaxed.

Without lifting her head or opening her eyes, she said, "I'm not hungry."

Turning further away from him, she hugged in her knees in a vain attempt to prevent her body heat from further escaping.

Silence fell starkly between them. Aragorn realized that insisting would not do much good. And he hadn't the energy for it. With a dejected sigh, he turned away and joined Gimli and Legolas who were eating _lembas_ a few yards away. Easing down next to them on the cool earth and gazed up at the dark sky.

The stars winked in the vault of the heavens, looking impossibly far away. Their scant light barely illuminated the world around them. Yet their glow lifted some of the weight from his thoughts. In his mind, he flew over the miles of plains, woods, and mountains, back to a hidden vale where his heart resided. Clouds drifted overhead obscuring the faint silver light. He exhaled.

"How is she fairing?" Legolas questioned, not bothering to mask his concern.

Aragorn felt his heart jump, but he quickly deduced that the elf was not asking of she who lay closest to his heart. Legolas passed Aragorn half a piece of _lembas_ bread. He accepted it but didn't eat right away. He looked at the elf as he broke the bread into smaller bites.

"She is cold, tired, and troubled. I fear that Boromir's death still haunts her."

Gimli grunted. One arm was draped over a knee that was bent towards his chest. "That may be, but I believe what happened in the woods haunts her more," he said perceptively.

Aragorn straightened a little and eyed the dwarf with a questioning look. "What happened in the woods?"

He waited, but it was Legolas who finally answered after a tense moment.

"Gimli and I abandoned her in the woods—it was not intentional," the elf added immediately. "She fell behind and we did not realize it until too late. We found her in the clutches of an uruk-hai who was attempting to strangle her. Her weapons were scattered on the ground and she was completely defenseless. If we had been any later in discovering her…she would have died."

Legolas bowed his head as shame stung his pride and heart. The images of Lana struggling for her life were still all too vivid in his mind. Even now he saw her clawing at the beast's gnarled hand, trying to kick free, but to no avail.

When the uruk's other hand began to wander and its vile tongue licked her face, the usually composed elf had lost all restraint. He had killed the enemies with brutal force. Without shame, he beheaded the uruk-hai who had dared to harm his friend, despite the fact it was already dead. It was an act unbecoming of an elf. But he did not stop to question his feelings—the unbridled rage had been like a storm in his brain—and it found release in savagely butchering the one who had thought to take liberties.

Legolas bowed his head, averting his gaze as the images played over and over again in his mind. His fair hair fell forward nearly obscuring his face.

Aragorn for his part frowned although it wasn't directed at either of his companions.

"Luck or fate was with her that you to find her when you did. But her weapons were scattered, you say? Has her training done nothing?" Aragorn asked with an edge of frustration.

Legolas opened his eyes and raised his head to peer at the Ranger. But he did not have an answer. Aragorn sighed and strained his eyes in the dark to see Lana. She was lying down now in a fetal position with her cloak pulled tightly around her. She appeared asleep; her body rose and fell methodically with each of her breaths.

"Perhaps Boromir was right from the beginning," Aragorn admitted softly. "We should not have brought her along. War is no place for a woman; especially one with no fighting skills."

Legolas looked at him in surprise. "You would have left her in Moria?"

Aragorn shook his head quickly. "Nay, I would have left her within the safety of Lórien."

No one spoke for a moment. Then Legolas gave voice to his thoughts, "Why did you not?"

Easing back a bit, Aragorn took a bite of his _lembas_, chewed, and swallowed before answering.

"I gave great thought to the idea, but then the gift that the Lady gave Lana made my apprehensions less. I had a feeling that the dagger meant something, as all of our gifts do." He sighed heavily looking out across the dark plains.

"I think…I _believe_ that Lana has a part to play in this quest; though it may seem unlikely at this point in time." Even as he spoke these words doubt colored them.

Legolas caught the Ranger's eyes with his own. "Gandalf believed in her as well. And so must we." He shifted his gaze to include Gimli as well. "Her confidence was shaken, but it will return with our devotion to her and her skills. She can fight. We have seen her do so against us. She will succeed if she can think and act as a warrior."

Aragorn's lips twitched into a soft smile. "You care for her, _mellon nín_. That may be the key to her success."

"She is my friend. Naturally, I want her to succeed," Legolas replied honestly.

Aragorn nodded, regarding the Mirkwood elf. Thranduil's son had a kind heart, as all elves did though some hid theirs more so than others. But as he had gotten to know Mirkwood's favorite son, Aragorn saw the blossoming of Legolas' personality. He thrived on adventure and friendship. His interest in other peoples grew as he traveled with the Dúnedain Rangers. It was only three years, but it had been an eye-opening experience for the elf.

His camaraderie with Lana was not unexpected. She was a good-natured person. Once past her initial wariness she had shown herself to be quite likable. In fact, Aragorn was surprised to note how close she had become to his own heart. She was like a sister—annoying, but still loved despite that.

And when she had at last shed her fear of the elves, she and Legolas had gotten along remarkably well. Oddly enough, their personalities suited each other. Legolas was ever curious and Lana had many stories to tell. Her own fascination with elves only made her more appealing. She had even gone so far as to learn Sindarin, which was a big step. Few people took the time to truly understand those who differed from themselves. An outsider was rarely welcomed or trusted anymore.

Her interest in the _Eldar_ delighted the elf, Aragorn knew. And Legolas, for all his warrior tendencies, was also good-natured and a pillar of steadfast strength. No doubt Lana leaned on his pragmatism and kindness to help her through the difficulties she faced.

But now Lana wasn't relying on Legolas at all—or any of them for that matter. She chose to walk alone. Aragorn knew it must have been hurting the elf deeply. The fact that she still had not confided in him about her past was no doubt like a harsh slap across the face. It belied the trust that had been built between them.

But if there was one thing the Ranger knew about women was that they could not be pushed into something they did not want to do willingly. And Lana possessed a strong, if not defiant, nature. It was that character that had allowed her to survive thus far; and it was the same nature that built defensive walls around her.

Aragorn sighed heavily. But it was Gimli who spoke up. "What should be done with her?" He asked practically.

Legolas jumped slightly, jarred from his own deep thoughts. He sent the dwarf a severe look of impatience though Gimli could not see it in the dark. As if something needed to be _done_ with her! Indignantly his fingers twitched on the bow that laid across his lap. Gimli spoke as if Lana were a noisome pest. Before Legolas could say anything, though, Aragorn spoke.

"I suggest that we begin retraining her once the hobbits are safe and we discover our road."

Legolas shook his head disagreeing wholly with the proposal. "I do not think she requires retraining. She is skilled with blade and bow. What she needs is confidence returned to her, and more opportunities to practice."

Aragorn pursed his lips in thought then nodded. "Aye. I think you may be right."

Legolas glanced quietly at the sleeping mortal woman. Despite the dark, he could see her clearly. Her lips were drawn thinly in her sleep. The deepening bruise on her cheek an ugly reminder of his failure to keep her safe. Grinding his teeth, he came to a decision.

"Until she is capable of defending herself, I vow to protect her. I swear an oath to defend her as I swore to defend the Ring-bearer." He held the duel stares of astonishment steadily.

"This is not a light task you would swear to," the man said slowly.

_"Istan sen,"_ Legolas conceded seriously._ I know this._

"Indeed, it is not a light task," Gimli replied, not realizing the meaning of Legolas' words. "You could die trying to keep such an oath."

Before Legolas could reply to that Aragorn interjected. "Why?" The elf looked confused, his brows furrowed. "Why do you wish to become her protector?" Aragorn clarified.

"I owe her that much," Legolas stated softly.

"You owe her nothing." Aragorn protested.

Legolas shook his head firmly. "Nay, I am at fault that she was left alone in the woods. Were she beside us, she may have been successful in battle. She could have drawn from our strength and experience." He said fervently.

"You do not bear this fault alone," Gimli told the elf. "I am as much to blame."

"There is no one to blame," Aragorn interjected before the two could start arguing the matter. "It was an accident. She lives and that is all that matters."

"I swear an oath to defend her," Legolas went on doggedly ignoring their words. "Gimli is witness to this oath if you will not be," he told the Ranger inflexibly.

Aragorn narrowed his eyes, assessing the Mirkwood elf closely. "You would die for her?" He asked carefully.

"Aye. I would give up my life for you, or Gimli, or the hobbits. Why would I not do the same for her?" There was a strange tone in the elf's voice that neither man nor dwarf could grasp.

"I do not doubt that you would give your life for any of us. We would do the same," the Ranger said reassuringly. "But serving as the protector of someone who is unable to defend herself—it is dangerous," Aragorn warned. "You would have to fight not only for yourself but for her as well. You do realize this?"

_"Caron." I do._

Aragorn exhaled deeply at the elf's unyielding tone. Legolas had already made up his mind. The Ranger believed it to be guilt that drove the elf to make this decision, but there was part of him that wasn't entirely certain. However his mind was too tired with grief and physical exhaustion to ponder the workings of an elf's thoughts this night.

"If you cannot be swayed, then it shall be so. Gimli and I are witnesses to this."

Legolas bowed his head, bringing his hand to his heart in gratitude. Then he raised his eyes to his companions.

_"Hannon le."_

No more was spoken about the mortal woman and the trio fell into silence until Legolas volunteered for the first watch. Gimli and Aragorn cast themselves on the ground, their weariness catching up with them. They both slept deeply.

Legolas stood, arms folded over his chest, eyes scanning the landscape. His ears picked up the barest hint of life in the barren landscape: the sound of night insects; an owl hooting somewhere far away; the snoring of his companions; Lana's muted murmurings as she dreamed.

The night was still. All too still. The uruk-hai were far ahead. They had gotten a large head start.

Legolas did not wake Aragorn, Gimli, or Lana for their turns on watch. He was not as weary as his companions, so he let them sleep. He listened to them as they snored, dreamed, and tossed and turned until dawn.

o0o

Aragorn woke at first light and immediately questioned Legolas as to why he did not awaken him for the watch. Legolas explained, and though the Ranger frowned, he did not take the elf to task. The extra rest had not rejuvenated him fully, and Aragorn refused to waste energy on arguments. Legolas had the unflagging stamina that was enviable to all mortal races.

The trail became visible again as the sun rose. The flattened grasses were now clear to the Ranger. After an extremely swift breakfast of _lembas_ and water, the four of them set out again.

Lana started off strong and kept up with the men, but all too soon she fell behind. She envied her brother who ran marathons. _Aidan would certainly have no problems with this!_ Gritting her teeth she paced herself, trying to keep up.

Gimli dropped back with her. They jogged together unhurriedly while Aragorn and Legolas sprinted ahead.

"Keep going…lass. You're…doing…fine," Gimli panted.

Lana gave him a weak smile. She could see how tired and worn he was, and it made her feel slightly better. She was not alone in this.

Gimli gave a breathless laugh. He had made her smile and it had been the first he had seen in nearly two days.

The uruk-hai were so far ahead and hope was beginning to dwindle, especially when Aragorn rested his ear against the earth.

"Their pace as quickened," he murmured to himself. "They must have caught our scent." Rising he called back to Legolas. "Hurry!"

Legolas paused and glanced back at Lana and Gimli. They both were struggling, but they were not giving up. He had to give them credit for not giving into defeat.

"Come on Gimli, Lana—we're gaining on them!" He called before sprinting up the hill

Lana wrinkled her nose at his boundless energy. "That's so…easy…for him…to say," Lana puffed to Gimli. "Elves can just…keep…going."

"Aye, he's an…arrogant one…at that!" Gimli replied.

They shared a laugh that ended far too quickly. Lana's foot caught on a dip in the earth and she fell flat on her face. Her muffled _"Shit!"_ was cut short as she ate grass.

Legolas of course, heard her fall and skidded to a halt to make certain that she was well. Sitting up, Lana spit out dirt and turf making a disgusted face. Gimli was at her side and helped her to her feet. Dusting herself off she cast about for her sunglasses.

"Ah fuck. My sunglasses," she lamented. With a frown, she picked up the bent frames. One of the lenses had been shattered on a rock. Another piece of home now gone.

"It's alright lassie. You didn't injure any limbs, and that's what's important."

She pulled a face but nodded, albeit sadly. Glancing up she saw Legolas perched atop the hill watching her and Gimli. He looked concerned as his brows were drawn together. His eyes did not once leave her form.

A sour feeling slithered under her breastbone. Not wanting his pity she quickly tucked the useless frames into her backpack and shouldered it again. She was already furious enough with her failure in yesterday's battle, and now she had embarrassed herself with falling.

She tore her gaze away from him and flicked her ponytail back.

"I'm ok, Gimli. Let's go."

The dwarf nodded in agreement, noting her annoyed tone.

Lana found some energy to run faster after her fall. She didn't want sympathy from any of her companions. So she ran hard to prove to them that no matter how tired she was she could keep up.

In her mind, she visualized herself as a cheetah racing swiftly over the terrain. She imaged the miles disappearing under her feet. Perhaps it was a childish thing to do but it helped keep her mind off her aching body. Aragorn said that what they were accomplishing had not been done ever before between any of the races of Elves, Dwarves, or Men. They would be marveled for such a feat.

_If only Aidan could hear this!_ Lana thought ironically. A familiar ache for her lost twin threatened to drag her down. She pushed aside her feelings of loss. There was no time to wallow.

As the day wore on, Lana's adrenaline began to wane. She was hungry, every inch from her feet up to her hips ached from running. Clearly Converse shoes were not meant for cross-country! She desperately hoped to see a town or village—any sign of civilization really. Anything besides rocks, grass, and the backsides of her companions!

On a grassy causeway between a rocky outcropping, Aragorn skidded to a halt. Stooping down he picked up what had caught his attention.

"Not idly do the leaves of Lórien fall," he said breathlessly.

Legolas backtracked to see what he had found. His eyes widened upon seeing the mallorn leaf brooch. "They may yet be alive!" He said with renewed hope.

"Less than a day ahead of us," Aragorn replied, standing. "Come!"

He sprinted off with improved stamina. Hope gave his feet wings. All their traveling, their determination, their suffering—it might not be in vain after all. Merry and Pippin might still be alive!

Aragorn dashed ahead, Legolas at his heels. Lana and Gimli were skidding down the hillside after them. Suddenly Gimli slipped and then tumbled down the hill.

"Oh shit! Gimli!" Lana gasped, sliding down to his side. She feared that he might have broken something given the way he fell. Legolas turned at the right moment to see the dwarf come toppling down.

"Come, Gimli! We're gaining on them!" He called and then ran on after Aragorn. Noticeably, he didn't pause for the dwarf.

In a flash, Gimli was on his feet. He charged after the elf as if nothing happened. "I'm wasted over cross-country!" He hollered at the elf's back. "We dwarves are natural sprinters! Very dangerous over short distances!"

Legolas didn't stop though he doubtless heard every disgruntled word. Lana caught up with the dwarf and looked him over critically.

"Are you ok?" She asked worriedly.

"'Twas nothing, lass. Come now, if we are to keep up with our companions."

Lana didn't reply knowing that the dwarf's pride was all that had been injured. Much like hers earlier. They kept pace together and ran after the indefatigable Ranger and elf.

Abruptly the land opened up into wide verdant plains. Rolling hills of yellow were starting to turn green with the oncoming spring. Legolas had pulled ahead of Aragorn now. He ran forward and then stopped, gazing sharply over the flat lands ahead. Aragorn stopped beside him, out of breath, but hiding it well. Wiping the sweat from his brow he frowned to see where the trail had led them.

Gimli and Lana made their way up the rocky outcrop where the others now stood. The landscaped looked no different to what they had been traversing all day in Lana's opinion. Grasslands spread out with rocks punctuating the land every so often. Soft rolling hills that reminded Lana of the open lands in the middle of England, or even the lowlands of Scotland. There was a certain beauty to it, but Lana could only think about the spasms in her legs.

"Rohan. Home of the Horse Lords," Aragorn said aloud. He frowned slightly, his eyes searching. "There is something strange at work here. Some evil gives speed to these creatures. Sets its will against us."

Lana wiped her brow with her sleeve and frowned at the Ranger's words. Without warning Legolas tensed. Lightly he ran off ahead to perch on a taller rock. Squinting against the sun, he lifted a long hand to shade his eyes.

"Legolas!" Aragorn called. "What do your elf-eyes see?"

Many leagues away, he saw figures of the uruk-hai running across the plains. "The uruks turn northeast! They are taking the hobbits to Isengard!" He yelled back.

"Saruman…" Aragorn murmured with realization.

Lana came around his side. "Isengard? Saruman? Just who exactly are these 'Horse Lords'? Are any of these people friendly?"

He looked at her. The bruising on her face was not as horrid today, but it still looked painful. The marks on her neck had all but nearly vanished. She looked at him with intelligent but tired eyes.

"Saruman is our enemy, and Isengard is the tower where he resides. I do not know whether the Rohirrim—the Horse Lords—will be friend or foe. In days of old these were fair and prosperous lands. But times grow dark and allies turn against allies."

Lana made a face. "Well, that's just peachy," she remarked dryly, looking out over the plains.

She missed the subtle quirk of Aragorn's lips. Whether she realized it or not, Lana could be quite amusing, and managed to lighten the Ranger's somnolent spirits. But there was no time to indulge in levity. The sun was moving across the sky and the sun was sinking lower.

"Come. We must continue before it becomes too dark to see."

Aragorn jumped off the ledge and hit the ground running following after Legolas. Lana and Gimli picked their way down with a little more care. The four companions ran hard. Like hounds on the scent, their pace quickened for their quarry had been sighted.

o0o

Lana pushed herself harder than ever before, ignoring the pain that shot through her legs with each step. It was just a dull reminder that she was alive, and she lived now on autopilot. In her head was the mantra that the hobbits needed her. She imagined their faces and a righteous anger would fuel her flagging muscles. She was determined to not let them down.

Onwards they ran over the yellow-green grass of Rohan's northern-most border. As with the day before, they did not stop until the sun's light was completely gone.

Lana chose to settle beside Gimli when they stopped to rest. The chill of the night sank through her clothes and into her very bones. She was shaking as much with the cold as was with fatigue. The trembling annoyed her, but she couldn't stop herself. Gimli rubbed her shoulders with one hand in an attempt to help keep her warm. She smiled gratefully and edged closer to him.

While she desperately wanted the hobbits to be safe, she was in a foul mood overall. _I fucking hate this,_ she mentally groused. She could put up with pain, muscles spasms, hunger, and even being dirty—but she couldn't stand the cold. It made everything worse for her.

She had spent most of her life in temperate if not outright hot places. Her blood was thin and she found it easier to cool down than warm up. Even after living in England she found that she still wore more layers than anyone she knew. It was seemingly impossible for her to retain heat. Right now she was slowly turning into a human popsicle.

_If only I could have a hot bath!_ She recalled the glorious baths she had in Lothlórien. What she wouldn't give to be back there again!

Lana didn't know Legolas was behind her until a cloak was draped over her shoulders. He sank to his knees to draw it around her. Startled by his unexpected materialization, she jolted.

"Legolas! For goodness sake!"

_"Goheno nin,"_ he murmured apologetically. "It was not my intent to startle you; merely to offer you my cloak for warmth."

His warm soft voice against her face made her shiver in a whole new way. Unnerved she replied, "I'm fine. I don't need your cloak." She started to brush it off her shoulders.

"You are heated from running," Aragorn's voice seemed to boom over the soft lilt of Legolas' dulcet tones. Jumping again Lana turned to see the Ranger looming over them both. "The cold of the night could cause you to become ill," he continued. "We cannot afford to nurse you back to health, nor do we wish to leave you behind. Do not refuse his generosity."

Properly chided, Lana glanced away. She clutched the cloak and bid Legolas a paltry 'thank you' before drawing her knees to her chest. The elf's face was one of disapproval laced with concern, but she missed it as she kept her eyes averted. Rising he sighed.

Truth be told, he was worried about her; and his concern grew every day. She rarely spoke to him or Aragorn anymore. Nor had he heard her speak a word of Sindarin for days. Like a paper cut—it hurt far more than he had expected it to. Her consistent refusal was like pouring lemon juice over said cut.

He left Lana sitting next to Gimli and went to stand by the Ranger.

"You should leave her be," Aragorn reprimanded softly.

Legolas looked away and exhaled slowly. "I cannot. Not when she is in so much pain."

"Pain? Physical pain?" Aragorn asked worriedly.

Legolas leaned closer and lowered his voice. "Aye, but I do not believe it is the pain of the body that troubles her. It is a pain of the heart."

The man thinned his lips but said nothing.

"Her pain is strong. It tortures her. I can feel it from where I stand here at this moment. And when I am beside her, it is so strong that it becomes my pain too—for it grips my heart so fiercely." Legolas bowed his head, his blond hair falling down his shoulders. "I feel so helpless."

Aragorn released a weighty sigh. "We all do. Not only with her but with the Ring; our futures; the fate of the world…"

"I do not like feeling helpless!" Legolas said vehemently. His hands curled into fists.

The man gripped his shoulder and gave him an understanding smile. "None of us do,_ mellon nín."_ Stepping away he made to address everyone all together. "Who will take first watch tonight?"

"I will," Lana stated immediately. She surprised the three men so much that it stole their words right away.

"What?" She snapped, annoyed at their shock. "Just because I'm a woman doesn't mean I'm incapable. Besides, I don't see how I could screw up _watching_."

"It is not necessary for you to keep watch. You are weary from traveling and should rest," Aragorn told her not realizing how patronizing he sounded.

He noticed her defensive tone and hoped to divert her anger. Part of her pain was no doubt due to her failure with the uruk-hai. He could not fault her for being upset. But he also did not want her overextending herself.

However, his well-meant words were not well received. Lana's eyes narrowed like a cat's.

"We're _all_ weary. We can take turns keeping watch so that everyone can sleep. I haven't done a watch yet, and it is the least I can do," she insisted doggedly.

"I will keep watch," Legolas told her, and he saw her tense instantly. "I do not need sleep for I am not as weary." His tone was inflexible. He looked down his nose at her almost imperiously.

Roused now by his supercilious tone Lana stood and looked at Aragorn. Despite her fatigue, she emanated fire. Perhaps it was her exhaustion that made her testy; she wasn't sure. All she knew was that she was tired of it all: tired of many things on many levels. And most of all, she was sick and tired of being regarded as incompetent and useless.

"Legolas and I will keep watch together," she ground out, surprising them all for a second time that night. "He isn't going to back down and neither will I," she said unyieldingly.

Aragorn looked between the two, noting the locked gazes of each. Knowing nothing good would come of arguing he agreed. "Very well. You both shall keep watch for the first half of the night, and Gimli and I will take turns keeping watch for the second."

He did not say another word, but cast himself on the ground and drew his cloak close. Gimli pursed his lips thinking deeply but merely nodded in agreement.

"Good night," he said at last.

Removing his helmet, he placed it on the ground before he re-braided his long frizzy hair. The task finished, he laid down as well.

Lana and Legolas were left alone staring at each other in the gathering night. It was like two bulls locking horns. The moon had yet to rise therefore Lana had a difficult time making out the elf's expression. He, however, could see her face clearly. And she was furious with him. Her slender brows were drawn low over her eyes that gleamed with blue fire—a fire directed at him. She said nothing but removed herself to a rock on the outskirts of their camp.

Drawing both her cloak and his around her shoulders, she set herself to the task of watching. She had to suppress a sigh. There was little that she could see in the darkness. She could barely see five feet in front of her, never mind what was in the distance.

"Do you intend to speak to me not?"

She jumped and mentally cursed at the elf. He was so close! Sometimes she really hated how silent he was. She swore that he was taking years off her life every time he startled her.

He was standing directly beside the rock she sat on, arms crossed over his chest. He was looking straight ahead and not at her. His blond hair and tunic danced in the cool breeze of the night but otherwise he was motionless.

Lana bit her tongue though she was sorely tempted to ignore the hell of him just for spite. But she wouldn't be that childish. It was her exhaustion that caused all this peevishness.

Legolas did not move nor did he look at her. He appeared ready to wait her out. Eventually, she sighed heavily.

"Do you think that I am incapable of doing something on my own? I know that I messed up really bad the other day…" her voice faltered but not with tears but with self-recrimination.

Legolas turned to gaze on her. His eyes were intense and they bore hers. "I do not think you incapable. I only wished that you would rest."

Lana ran a hand over her loose hair. The ponytail was hardly doing its job now. She pulled the tie from it.

"Look, I appreciate where you're coming from, but I want to help. I _need_ to help. I've been nothing but a damn burden on this whole miserable journey."

He frowned at her tone. Shaking his head slowly, he replied. "Nay. You have not been a burden."

She whipped around to face. "How can you say that?" She demanded, her voice rising. Quickly she lowered it remembering that Gimli and Aragorn were trying to sleep.

"How can you say that?" She repeated in a heated whisper. "You and Aragorn had to train me, and I couldn't even defend myself after all that." She wrinkled her nose and looked away, disgusted with herself.

"You were frightened," he told her in gentle understanding. "It was your first true battle. From what I understand of your past life, you did not have to fight. This world must be a difficult change for you. While it is regretful that your first battle was not well fought, it is understandable. We do not hold you at fault."

Lana gave him a wry look. "You don't. But I _do_. I failed in the worst way possible. This wasn't some article that I botched up or even an on-air error that I could fix. I could have _died_."

"Aye, you could have." Legolas agreed quietly, and then added, "but you did not."

She cast her eyes away. "Because of you and Gimli."

Legolas sighed. He and Gimli could have been the reason she nearly had been killed in the first place, but they would never know. "We are relieved that you are safe. That is what matters. I know you strive to defend yourself on your own, but I vowed to help you, if you allow me."

She raised her head, peering at him speculatively. But he was guileless.

"I will train you as often as you desire if that is what it takes to rebuild your confidence," he offered softly.

Still giving him a sidelong look she said, "Why would you want to do that?"

When his intense gaze became too much for her and she lowered her eyes. Not a moment later, his fingers found her chin. Lifting it so that he could look directly into her eyes he replied. "Because you are my friend, and I care about you." His light eyes seemed to glow in the starlight. "I do not desire to lose you," he added almost tenderly.

Diverting her gaze by closing her eyes, Lana forced away the moisture that rapidly collected there. Inhaling deeply she opened them again, now free of tears. She gifted him with a hesitant smile and a nod.

Releasing her chin, he smiled in return. Together they sat in companionable silence. The strain between them seemed to blow away across the plains. Legolas glanced over the land, his eyes seeing much more than hers were capable of.

He was relieved that the tension between them was now resolved—mostly if not wholly. It felt good to stand by her side and not fear her rejection. It had bothered him to be at odds with her. Why that was, he could not say nor did he ponder it then. He was content to just be near her.

Lana attempted to keep watch, but she felt like a failure at that too. She couldn't see very far in the dark, but she did the best she could. As far as she could tell nothing but grass moved on the plains.

Hardly two hours went by before Aragorn awoke. Lana could hear him exhaling heavily and then get up. He appeared beside them still looking haggard. Sleep was eluding him.

"Rest, I will keep watch for now."

Legolas nodded and patted Aragorn on the shoulder before he gently led Lana way from her rock.

"You should sleep," he advised her.

Lana nodded automatically, and Legolas waited until she was lying down in the grass before he stepped away. He didn't sleep. Rather he stood, arms crossed over his chest, gazing out into the deepening night.

As she lay on the ground she studied the elf. He stood statuesquely, not a single movement betrayed him, other than the wind ruffling his hair. Knowing that she should sleep, Lana closed her eyes and willed her body to relax. But Gimli was snoring loudly and her mind would not stop racing; a plague that had developed when she was a small child.

She rolled over once trying to get comfortable, and then tossed again. Finally, she sat up with a sigh. Running her unbandaged hand through her loose hair, she shook out the debris and stood. Still clutching both cloaks, she went to Legolas.

"You should be sleeping," he told her reprovingly, glancing down at her.

She picked at her bandaged right hand, and then drew both cloaks closer about her. "I don't want to sleep, I can't now. I …" she halted, the words dying in her throat. She grimaced slightly looking away. Then she looked him directly in the eyes with determination.

_"Aníron peded a le." I want to speak with you._

Both of Legolas' brows rose. The sound of Sindarin rolling off her tongue combined with her wish to talk made his heart sing with unexpected joy.

_"Pedo,"_ he urged gently. _Speak_.

He could hardly keep the delight out of his voice.

Lana dropped his gaze again. An air of nervousness started emanating from her. Her body seemed to shrink under his gaze, and she hid her hands in the cloaks so he couldn't see their shaking. But he had already noticed.

"Not here," she whispered.

Nodding, Legolas held out his hand to her. _"Aphado nin,"_ he beckoned softly. _Follow me._

The feel of his warm skin and strong fingers wrapping around hers was like an anchor. Part of her latched onto it eagerly as he led her away. Another part balked. That part of her was screaming at her demanding to know what she was doing. But she firmly closed the door on that loud yet timid part of her mind.

Legolas led her a short distance away from Gimli, who was snoring, and Aragorn who was keeping watch. Although mortal, the Ranger was one of the Dúnedain. He had superior hearing compared to most other mortal men. Legolas did not intend for him to accidentally eavesdrop.

Lana walked close to Legolas, her shoulder occasionally brushing against his arm as they went. The dark and the quiet of the night were both frightening and comforting. Frightening because she had decided at last to reveal the part of her past that she long hidden from everyone. Comforting, because the darkness provided a spurious sense of obscurity.

Her heart was pounding so loudly in her ears that she wondered if Legolas heard it too.

He stopped some yards away from the camp and gestured toward a rock, releasing his hold on her. _"Havo." Sit._

Lana shook her head, her shoulders hunching unconsciously. She was far too jittery to sit down.

"What do you wish to speak about?" He asked gently.

Her apprehension did not go unnoticed by him. She seemed rigid—tauter that a bowstring. The tension radiating off of her was infused with the pain he had sensed over the last several weeks. In it all was a strain of anxiety.

She looked down at the grassy ground, and then away. Her eyes searched the plains as if seeking something. When she slowly glanced up at the sky there was a strange haunted look in her deep blue eyes. She was anxious—frightened even. Silence fell between them for several moments before she was able to speak.

"It's about…uhm…" she glanced down at her left arm and Legolas followed her gaze.

He felt his heartbeat quicken. She was looking at the arm with the scar he had discovered days ago by the Anduin. His eyes found hers and he tilted his head. Quietly in level tones he spoke. "You do not have to tell me if you do not wish to." He did not want her to feel obligated to tell him and then regret speaking about it later.

"I…I _do_ want to tell you—I mean…if you still want to know." She paused for a moment, looking down. Then she forced herself to meet his gaze directly.

_"Gerich estel nín." You have my trust._

Before he could stop it from happening, Legolas exhaled loudly. His heart wanted to sing! Aragorn had been correct. Lana trusted him and she had come to tell him what was wrong.

But his heart did not sing. Lana was afraid as well as upset—and highly agitated. And this bothered him. So many emotions were projected from her in such a short length of time that he could hardly make sense of them.

At last he prompted her. "It pleases me to hear this, for you also have my trust. Tell me what troubles you, Cairnmel. I would share your burden." He coaxed in a soft tone. His head was tilted to the side again as he watched her. His straight blond hair tumbled over his shoulder.

The sound of her nickname and his gentle voice soothed her for a moment, but the feelings of apprehension and affliction came spiraling back all too soon. Her heart rate increased as she started to pace.

"It is an old wound yet it still bleeds freely," Legolas noted quietly as he watched her walk back and forth, and back again.

Lana sighed, biting her lip as she did so. Legolas was so damned perceptive! It was a wonder that she could hide anything from him at all. Legolas moved to intercept her, halting her pacing. Kindly he reached for her hand and took it into his, offering her comfort. Lana bowed her head as memories percolated to the surface of her brain.

_Can I really go through this again?_

Biting the inside of her cheek she knew that there was no other she could speak to. She had to do this—wanted to do this. True healing could only begin by confiding. She lost the one person she trusted most when she came to this world.

Aidan knew. He understood. He held her when the nightmares came, teased her if she became too pensive, pulled her from the mire that threatened to consume her. But her brother wasn't here. And she would have no one unless she did this.

In her heart she knew that Legolas was the one she could trust most with this secret of secrets. He had proven himself a true friend and took an active interest in who she was. He had continuously shown himself to be patient and kind despite her less than mature behavior. It was a wonder he dealt with her at all.

He, more than anyone else, deserved to know this part of her story.

Besides, if she didn't manage to lay her ghosts to rest then she would never be able to live for the future. And she was ready to exorcise them all.

Gathering her courage she looked up into his concern face and took a deep breath.

* * *

_Thanks for reading!_


	19. The War Correspondent

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.**

I make no claims on Tolkien's works. I also give credit to Cormak3032.

**Note**: The beginning of this chapter is intense. I did not enjoy writing it, and do not like reading it, but it's important for Lana's character development. It explains a lot about why she is the way she is. That said, the beginning of this chapter diverts significantly from Cormak's _Mysterious Fate. _And it deals with heavy issues like rape and captivity. I will say that I have no personal negative feelings toward the Middle East. It is an amazing, diverse, and unique part of the world. I could have just as easily placed this scene somewhere else in the world; but the Middle East made sense for where Lana would go. (She's one of those mad journalists drawn to dangerous places.)

Without further ado...

* * *

**Chapter 18: The War Correspondent**

"We have to evacuate the city now!" Abdul ducked back behind the barricade.

Outside the abandoned store the streets were finally clear. In the distance, there was the sound of shooting; a rhythmic _pop-pop-pop_ that sounded toy-like from where it echoed off the concrete alley walls. Shouts and commands sounded soft by comparison, the words lost over the distance. Sometimes a heavy shell fell, causing the earth to tremble and building to shudder.

Lana finished packing her kit. The camera, voice recorder, and notebook were stowed in her backpack. Zipping it up swiftly she glanced at her fellow journalist. Abdul worked for Al Jazeera and had been a lifesaver in more ways than one. He, more than anyone, knew when a situation was too dangerous to stay.

They had taken refuge in the abandoned grocery store for the last twenty hours. The streets back to their hotel had all been blocked by insurgents. Kabul was under siege yet again and the Taliban were quickly making headway in their direction. But that also meant the Americans were not far behind.

"We have to wait for Mohemed," Lana stated firmly. "He said he would be here."

Another shell fell, closer this time. The foundations of the store shook. Their driver began babbling in terror. Lana understood most of what the man said. She understood his fear. She felt it too, but she refused to leave without Mohemed. She owed the fixer her life several times over. She would not have gotten into Kabul without him. And she damn well wasn't going to leave without him.

Abdul moved to her side grabbing her shoulder. "Are you mad? This neighborhood is falling around us and you want to wait here?" He shook her. "Mohemed would be lucky if he is dead already! Peace be upon him—but a worse fate than death will be on him if they catch him!"

Lana knew this, but she refused to believe that her comrade had fallen victim to the Taliban. He was too good at what he did. Without him, there was no chance of the world knowing what was really going on here on the ground. He had helped dozens of journalists through hundreds of battles

With her insistence, they waited a bit longer, but the driver finally declared that he was leaving. They could go with him or stay behind, but he was leaving now. Lana grit her teeth. She knew it was foolish now to remain, but she couldn't leave Mohemed behind. He was coming. He always came.

Abdul swore in Arabic and said that she was crazy, but he stayed with her just the same. Journalists stick together after all. Besides, he told her with a dry smile, her Arabic was shit. She would need someone to translate for her if all hell broke loose.

Overhead a squad of US F-15s screeched by releasing their payloads several blocks away. The two journalists ducked out the back of the shop. Things were getting too close.

They would have to make a run for it.

She needed no more convincing. Lana would be no good to the fixer if she was dead. Hearts pounding they skirted through the alleys and dashed across deserted streets. Sniper fire was everywhere, but they managed to slip by unseen. For a time anyway. Too soon a rebel city militia and Taliban supporters ringed them. The gunfire was deafening.

"Go!" Abdul pushed her behind a van, yelling to keep down.

In an instant the odds changed. The Taliban gained the upper hand. In the chaos, they suddenly became surrounded. Darkly swathed men had them on their stomachs, yelling to keep still or be shot.

Then rough hands jerked them upright, searched for weapons and stole their gear. As afraid as she was, Lana kept a stoic unaggressive face. It was important to remain calm. She complied with what they said but kept saying one word at them: _"Shfi,"_ meaning journalist.

She started protesting when they beat Abdul. They slapped her when she yelled, and ripped off her headscarf. They said she desecrated the hijab and was not fit to wear it. Despite her protests they mostly ignored her. But they questioned Abdul extensively after beating him.

Soon both were hooded and bound and thrown into a truck bed. Trying to keep calm Lana began counting slowly. She could track how far away they were by counting. But they changed vehicles several times and traveled for hours. And eventually she lost track not only of her counting but also any sense of direction.

When at last they arrived at the Taliban's stronghold, they were separated and questioned individually. All of Lana's equipment was confiscated; her passport stolen.

The leader of the camp was a heavily bearded man with cold dead eyes. While his men were fiery and threw insults, he merely eyed her with a calculating stare. She was presented before him and his second-hand man. That fellow leered at her in unspeakable ways. Forcing a blank face, she greeted the warden of the prison she found herself in.

"You are American," he said in thickly accented English.

Lana said nothing.

"And…press?"

Again nothing.

"Do you know who I am?" He asked coldly, circling her.

She glanced at him sideways but remained silent.

"I am Hazim. I am a servant of Allah." He looked her over frostily. "And you are to be judged."

"I am honored to meet you, Hazim," she replied in her own thickly accented Arabic.

Her grasp of their language surprised both men. But they exhausted her knowledge quickly. Hazim, as it was, was the overlord of this prison. No one came or went except by his leave. Journalists were stinking dogs and lying snakes in his opinion, but a good source of revenue. He would make inquiries about her. Until then she would remain his prisoner.

When he was finished interrogating her, she was led away, stripped naked, her head shaved, and then thrown in a barren cell. She lay there shaking wondering what happened to Abdul and if Mohemed was all right.

How long would it take before anyone realized she was missing? And could they find her?

Eventually, she was given a long cotton shift. It was not fitting for a woman to be naked, Hazim said. But he did little to stop the men from gawking her. They made much of her tattoos and made crude gestures and spat at her through the bars of her cell. She feared the day that they overcame their inhibitions. Especially Hazim's second in command; Rakhmed.

She was fed once a day and given nothing to occupy her time. Months began drifting by. Every time her hair started to grow back they would shave it again. They were not gentle, and many times they cut her scalp.

The pawing always happened around that time. They would run their hands over her body, and ogle her when they allowed her to bathe in the yard. The bath consisted of nothing more than a bucket and a dirty rag. It was humiliating and demeaning. At least she hadn't been raped.

But that all changed. Nearly six months had passed and there was no word that any help was coming.

Lana lived the life of an animal, alive but hardly worth living. She had lost weight and was severely malnourished. There were scars on her head from the numerous shavings. One man had even carved _whore_ in Arabic into her scalp with the razor.

Abdul had been shot some three months before. The other prisoners were kept in similar states of fear and trauma. Routine executions were held though no one could say when their time would come.

They never shot Lana.

But the worst was yet to come. Hazim left one week. Where to and for what Lana neither knew nor cared. She carved the inside of her cell with a sharpened rock to mark the days she survived, but she felt like she was losing her mind. Words and snippets of poems, songs, and memories were etched into her cell walls with a dedication born out of boredom.

o0o

"You stink like cow."

Lana didn't even turn. Listlessly she carved a word into the wall. She had repeatedly come back to this one, drawing it ever deeper into the concrete.

"People say Western women beautiful, but you look like dried fig. Ugly. Rotten."

Lana at last turned slowly to look over her shoulder. The mean eyes of Rakhmed glimmered through the open bars of her prison.

She knew better to talk back. Whenever she lost her temper and opened her mouth she was beaten. But she really hated this man. Turning away, she raised her sharpened rock and started carving again.

"But you can sing," he continued curiously. He continued in Arabic. _"I hear you. In the night, when you think you are alone. Such a sweet sad voice." _She heard the hinges screech as the door of her cell opened. _"Does the little bird sing prettily in the sun, I wonder?"_

His feet came into her field of vision. She said nothing, but her heart started beating faster. The man stank himself. _Like pig shit and cheap alcohol._

They were not supposed to be drinking, but that didn't stop many of them. His hand gripped her wrist and pulled her around to face him. Her face came level with his crotch. She closed her eyes and sent up a prayer to God that he would just leave.

But no one seemed to be answering prayers these last months. There was little hope of that changing today.

Swathed in black, she noted the pistol in his belt along with a rather medieval-looking blade. It was beautiful, with gold and jewels encrusting the hilt. She stared dully at it.

He pulled her upright roughly. _"Won't you sing for me now, little bird?"_ He leered wickedly. _"Just one song. I want to hear you sing."_

Lana turned her face away from the putrid breath. She coughed and grimaced. The smile left the man's face.

"Bitch!" He backhanded her and she fell against the wall and slid down. "I tell you sing!" He shouted in broken English.

She glared up at him. Some of her former spirit flared to life. "No."

His nostrils flared. _"You dare to defy me?! Do you know who I am?"_ He yelled in Arabic.

She looked at him and then opened her mouth. "You're the son of a whore and your father is a pig. But you are not even worthy of that animal. You're nothing more than pig shit."

She saw stars. She felt her body being roughly lifted again, and coarse shouting shattered the nerves in her ear.

_"I will make you regret the day you were born! Cow! Bitch!" _He yelled.

Grabbing his knife he slit her ragged tunic exposing her completely. She tried to fight back but was too weak to do much more than annoy him.

"Go fuck yourself!" She growled as he fought to hold her still while struggling to loosen his belt.

Their ruckus drew attention. But instead of stopping the enraged man, the others held her down.

"I will _make_ you sing, little bird!" He said evilly.

She screamed and fought with a zeal that she didn't know she possessed. But in the end she lay on the ground, helpless and defenseless.

He took her from behind like a rutting bull, holding the knife to her throat to prevent her from struggling. She bit back her cries. She was not about to give him the satisfaction. When he had finished he cajoled the others in Arabic to "Fuck the West!" Five others followed his example

When it was over, she lay unmoving on the ground. She felt beyond dirty. Her eyes moved to the sharp little rock she used to carve the walls of her cell. Moving her abused body, she crawled towards it.

She would do it. She would end the suffering now. As she finally made it to where the rock lay she held it in trembling hands. She shook violently and fought back tears and bile.

Looking up she saw nothing but the dark ceiling of her cell. All around her was darkness. And she was alone, abandoned, and beyond saving now.

Inhaling a choked sob she clutched the sharpened rock to her chest. Just then the moon appeared from behind a cloud. Its soft light slowly infiltrated the hall outside her cell. It gave her just enough light to see the word she had so impassionedly carved on her wall.

_Invictus._

Gasping she started to cry. She let go of the rock and prayed again that help would come.

A week later the prison was in a ruckus. Something was happening. Hazim had returned. When he discovered what the men had done he shot everyone who had raped her. They were "unclean" he declared and not worthy of the jihad. All except Rakhim.

Rakhim was beaten profusely and was threatened with castration. Apparently he was too valuable to kill.

Lana lay in her cell listening as the other prisoners were taken out into the yard. Shots were fired. She counted them all. Thirty-two shots. There were thirty-three prisoners here.

She closed her eyes and curled herself into a tight ball. Suddenly there was mayhem everywhere. Heavy blasts shook the ground. The blood curling cries of men dying in agony were heard. Lana covered her ears and lay trembling.

Without warning, her cell was opened. Rakhim hauled her upright. "You! You come with me!"

She didn't have the strength to fight. Dragged along, she vaguely wondered where Hazim was. Then she saw him. She saw his lifeless body and felt…nothing.

She heard Rakhim yelling and felt the knife blade against her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut.

_"Let me go! Or the bitch dies!"_ He screamed in Arabic.

Slowly her hands reached up to grip the hand that held the knife. "Please," she whispered through dry lips.

But he didn't hear her. He continued shouting, trading insults with those who attacked.

"Let me go," she said with a little more force. She blinked and her vision cleared. Recognizing the soldiers as friendlies, she started to struggle. "Let me go you pig!" She grunted and elbowed him roughly.

He swore and made to smack her. But he lost his grip on her and she slipped from his arms. He latched onto one wrist and gripped it painfully tight.

_"You're not going anywhere!"_ He spat in Arabic.

He brought the knife down. Instinctively Lana threw up her free arm. The blade bit into her skin, grazing the bone, severing blood vessels, tissues, and nerves.

She screamed breathlessly. In that instant Rakhim was down, shot by a sniper. Lana fell on top of him for he still held her wrist. His lifeless eyes held so much shock. He never expected to die.

Struggling, Lana felt the world spinning around her. Blood was gushing from her arm. She stared at the wound in confusion. Shouting was all around her, and the sounds of boots on gravel. The last thing she saw was a young face of a soldier. He was speaking to her, but she couldn't hear him.

He had soft hazel eyes.

o0o

Lana sighed deeply and held completely still. Her hands, which she had been wringing mercilessly through the tale, were now frozen. She closed her eyes for a long moment.

"That was the last thing I remembered until I woke some three days later. I was in a hospital in London. My arm was bandaged and family was there…my mom, dad…Aidan. It was noontime. There was a large vase of yellow tulips next to my bed. Outside it was raining."

She let out a humorless laugh.

"It's always raining in London." Grimacing she inhaled shakily. "I had no recollection of my trip from Afghanistan to England. I was told that I had 'died' once on the way, but that they were able to resuscitate me."

Lana glanced at Legolas who had been shifting his weight from leg to leg throughout the tale. His brows were deeply furrowed, causing lines to appear on his forehead. His lips were parted and he was staring intently into Lana's face.

"Elbereth…" he whispered softly.

His heart ached for her! It had beat faster than normal as he listened to her tale. And now it throbbed on her behalf. Glancing down at the pale jagged scar on Lana's arm, he felt his heart squeeze painfully once more. He looked into her eyes again.

He was beyond shocked. He knew well the cruelty of orcs and goblins, but the fact that her own kind had attacked her so cruelly! She had only been there trying to do her job and report on what was happening—to bring the truth to light. She had acknowledged how dangerous it was but was adamant that those without a voice deserved to have one. And the world deserved to know the truth.

The fact that those she had tried to help bring a voice to had so viciously attacked her was inconceivable to him. Legolas did not understand how she could have survived so much trauma. Were she an elf, she surely would have faded from such abuse.

"I had to have countless surgeries and a year of physical therapy before I could use my left hand again," Lana continued with pain in her voice. "The…ah…" she inhaled and started again. "The knife nearly severed the nerve that allows me to control my hand."

A few tears ran down her cheeks.

"I had nightmares for _months_—severe PTSD—that's, uh, posttraumatic stress disorder. It's common for soldiers…and for journalists who work in conflict zones."

Her lip trembled and it took her several moments before she could continue.

"The dreams, the paranoia, the constant dread…it was all so horrible. I couldn't sleep—I would stay awake instead of going to bed at night. I only slept when my body finally gave out with exhaustion. I was afraid of the dark, and I couldn't stand seeing the color orange because it reminded me of the cell."

She laughed suddenly, but it was bereft of joy.

"I kept thinking that Rakhim would come after me—even though I _knew_ he was dead. I saw him get shot. But I couldn't shake the feeling of his eyes still watching me." She shook her head. "I was so cautious that I couldn't stand with my back exposed in a room. I'd always back into a corner because I was afraid of someone coming up behind me. I couldn't talk to people, and I became unnaturally suspicious of anyone who looked even remotely like an Afghan."

She sighed in an ashamed sort of way.

"Which is unfair to say in the least. I knew many _good_ and _noble_ Afghani people. But that didn't stop me from having a….uhm…an _episode_ if I saw someone who looked Afghani." Here she hung her head in shame.

"I developed a strange phobia about knives," she continued. "I couldn't see one without freaking out or breaking down. For a long time had to use plastic knives to cut my food. It took over a year before I was able to use a real knife again. And it took even longer before I stopped jumping every time I saw one. I still get a little squeamish when I see them."

Legolas frowned as he recalled Aragorn's words about her reaction to the dagger during her first days of training. It all made sense now.

"After a year off from work, I tried to go back, but…but I couldn't even step into a newsroom where they were talking about war or battles or hostages. I would start to panic."

She started to cry again. Legolas' hand found her shoulder and he squeezed it gently.

"My bosses, they were understanding at first, but…I was useless. They couldn't pay a war correspondent who couldn't handle war! They relegated me to a sub, that is, I edited other people's stories instead of writing them myself. Heaven forbid I came across one about Afghanistan! They usually did a great job of keeping me away from those stories, but sometimes one slipped through." She sighed thickly. "It was _so_ humiliating!"

Shaking her head she sniffed.

"My mom and dad were great. Even though they're divorced they came together to help me pull through. And Aidan…I couldn't have gotten over any of this without him. He was there for every surgery, every therapy appointment, every meltdown…He wouldn't allow me to succumb to my depression."

She glanced up at Legolas for a moment who had not taken his eyes off of her. He looked highly upset and concerned. There was so much sorrow in his eyes, and Lana knew he could feel her pain. She wondered if it was right to subject him to this.

Legolas stood patiently, beckoning for her to continue with his silent and intense gaze.

"Life started to return to normal. I left the BBC World Service and transferred to their radio division, where I was able to change from world news to arts and entertainment news. It was a good change, and it felt wonderful to start something new."

She lowered her head. "But my happiness didn't last long."

She paused when she felt Legolas' fingers begin to rub her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her.

"We…we got the news that…that five of our fellow journalists had been captured by the Taliban…" she swallowed thickly. "Two of them I knew really well. They were my friends as well as colleagues."

Tears fell continuously now.

"They were executed live on TV…everyone around the world got to see it. It was so…_barbaric!_ They hacked their heads off with crude swords while saying that the West would fall."

She sobbed softly, and Legolas felt his heart breaking.

"It was more than I could take and my nightmares started up all over again. I had to go home…to California. I quit the BBC and lived with my brother after that. I did nothing journalistic until only six months ago." Her lip trembled. "My whole life has been so irrevocably changed. I don't just bear physical marks from this…it's been carved into my heart!" She whispered brokenly.

"All I wanted to do was give a voice to those who had no one to stand up for them, to tell the world the truth on their behalf…and, and they took _everything_ from me!"

All her concealed emotions from the last four years finally made their way to the surface. Lana lost any self-control that she had left. She buried her face into her hands, allowing the tears to fall freely.

She felt the hand on her shoulder move to her neck and then down her arm to her side. The cold of the night seemed to diminish and she realized that two strong arms now encircled her.

Part of her wanted to fight the embrace, but she didn't. She couldn't. She was tired of fighting, tired of holding in all that she felt, tired of putting on a strong face. She lowered her hands and pressed her cheek against the soft suede of Legolas' tunic. Accepting the warmth and protection he offered her, she held on tightly. She cried out her fears, her losses, and her frustrations in heaving sobs that wracked her slender frame.

Legolas stood quietly for a long time and held her, his arms tightening around her. His heart felt ready to burst with the sorrow and anguish, the fear and anger, and the heartbreak. These emotions he felt radiating from Lana mingled with his own.

He pressed his lips to the crown of her head then rested his cheek there.

_"Tí ú-chiratha le si egor naegra le ad,"_ he whispered to her. _They will not find you here or cause pain to you again._

He desperately wished he could tell her that she was safe, but that was not true. Not while Sauron's armies gathered. No one would be safe until the One Ring was destroyed.

Her sobs faded after a while and she hiccupped, trying to force herself to stop. She withdrew from his arms, flushing with embarrassment. Legolas released her, watching as she rubbed her red swollen eyes with her hands and sleeves. He reached for the cloak that he had lent her, which was falling off her shoulders, and repositioned it.

_"Goheno nin,"_ she whispered forlornly. _Forgive me._

"Whatever for?" Legolas asked in astonishment.

"For breaking down like that. I thought I was stronger than this."

Legolas could hardly believe his ears. He gripped her gently, his hands resting on her shoulders.

"You _are_ strong, Cairnmel. Stronger than I believe you realize." His eyes bored into her face, waiting for her to look up at him, but she did not.

"Those men hurt you terribly. Both emotionally and bodily—and yet you _persevered!_ You chose to continue the journey of life and did not give up when it could have been so easy to."

He gently held her left arm, holding her left hand to his chest protectively while lightly tracing the scar with his free fingers. Lana had revealed it to him when she had first begun her story and he had glanced at it on more than one occasion.

"You must not allow him to hurt you any longer by thinking of _him_. This Rakhim is not worthy of your remembrances." His warm breath touched her face, and she glanced up to look into his eyes. Deeply rooted sorrow met his gaze.

Legolas had no idea to what extent this young mortal woman had been hurt. She had hidden it from him very well, and this astonished him. He realized how deeply she must have been forced to bury these memories, just so she could continue living.

She nodded and sniffled. "I know. I keep telling myself that." Her eyes brimmed with moisture once more.

Legolas brushed away the fresh tears with his thumb. "You should listen to your own advice." He smiled gently, removing his hand from her face.

Despite herself she laughed softly through her tears. Legolas lowered his eyes and Lana realized he still held her left hand. Strangely, he seemed enthralled by the ugly mark.

His fingers once more lightly traced her scar, the feel of it alien beneath his fingertips. His people did not carry such blemishes. But she was mortal—human—and she would carry hers for the rest of her life. It was a silent reminder of her hardships. And a testimony to her strength.

Lana forced herself not to shiver as he touched her. His fingertips were warm; a stark contrast to the chilly night air.

"As terrible as this was for you, I sense that it has made you much stronger." His fingers continued their slow movements.

She watched his fascinated expression curiously. He seemed to be memorizing her injury. It had started off as child-like, which she found interesting, considering that he was nearly 3,000 years old. But then she saw concern seep into his eyes once again.

She swallowed, suddenly feeling uncomfortable as his gaze lingered on her face. Whether he knew it or not, his stare was very often too intense to hold.

"I regret that your…innocence…was so horribly taken from you," he whispered slowly.

It was difficult for him to even think of how she had been so violated, let alone speak of it.

Lana gave him a sad half smile. "Don't worry about that. Thankfully I wasn't a virgin at the time…otherwise I might not have recovered. I did have a lover before all this but…he couldn't handle me as broken as I was. And he left after my return."

She pursed her lips thinking.

"It's just as well. We were too different anyway. Eric was a homebody, and I wanted to travel. He wanted to settle down immediately and start a family, and I…well I wasn't ready for that yet. He couldn't accept me as I was, and kept trying to change me." She shrugged. "We were in love once, but…it wasn't _true_ love, I guess." Morosely she wondered if such a thing even existed.

A strange feeling ran through Legolas. He could not understand how anyone, let alone a lover, would leave their beloved to languish in misery and pain alone. And while Legolas understood that Lana's world was a far cry from his own, the thought of this unfaithful man having rights to her body caused a bubble of something indescribably bitter to burst within his gut. But he forced away his questions as Lana's face became nostalgic once more.

"I'll never have to worry about him or my past ever again…" she murmured aloud, though it seemed she spoke to herself. "Because I'm here…far away from all that…"

Legolas knew that she was thinking about her family and how much she missed them. Without a second thought to propriety, he stepped forward and put his arms around her again pulling her into his embrace. She hugged him back tightly and pressed her cheek against his chest.

His tunic was still damp from her tears, and his silky blond hair tickled her nose. At last she sighed and relaxed in his arms. The feel of his warm solid body against hers was a comfort she desperately needed, as was his friendship.

After a few moments, Legolas stepped back, but he did not quite release her. He kept her hands in his, unconsciously satisfying the need to be close to her.

Lana lightly squeezed his hands. "Thank you for listening to my story…for listening to…me. And for being here when I needed someone."

Affection for him welled in her soul as she realized that Legolas _was_ here for her. He was pulling her through all of this somehow; much like her brother Aidan did back home. While she missed her brother immensely, Legolas filled a hole in her heart that she never quite acknowledged was there.

It wasn't a brotherly love she felt for the elf, but that of a deep and profound friendship. The kind that comes when two souls cut from the same cloth meet. She realized that she wanted to bask in his friendship forever.

"You are a true friend, Legolas," she stepped closer, lightly touching his cheek. "I couldn't image being here without you." She told him sincerely.

Legolas felt his heart emptying itself of the hurt and only to fill up with warmth and love for a friend. Taking her hand from his cheek he lightly kissed her fingers.

"I am honored that you would choose to share your past with me. Especially when it is one that has harmed you so greatly. I will always be here to listen to anything you wish to tell me, Cairnmel."

Lana smiled at hearing her nickname. Already she was feeling better. It was as if a heavy stone had been lifted off her chest, and now she could breathe normally again. How long had it been since she last felt this way? Since she last felt _free?_

No longer feeling haunted, she finally felt like the past was where it should be. It was there but harmless now. Like sand in the desert, a warm wind blew the grains of pain away.

As he watched her, Legolas could feel her sorrows disappear. He was reminded again of how resilient mortals were. There were times when he forgot this truth, but with individuals like Lana and Aragorn, they continued to remind him.

"You should sleep," he told her softly.

She shook her head, the loose waves of her hair catching and refracting the faint moonlight. "I couldn't possibly now."

Understanding, Legolas nodded. Her rest would be plagued by old memories and her sleep would be anything but restful.

They were still standing so Legolas gently beckoned her to join him on the grassy ground. He held one of her hands within his, the fingers of his other hand lightly stroking the back of hers. Together they sat companionably in the bedewed grass.

As he caressed her fingers, Legolas began think about the comparisons between elves and mortals. Aside from resilient spirits, humans possessed striking physical differences. They appeared to come in all shapes, sizes, and colors.

Lana, for example, was fair, though not as fair as his kindred. Her skin was rougher than an _elleth's_, but not overly so. It was certainly smoother than dwarf or hobbit skin. Even Aragorn's skin felt dry and rough compared to Lana's.

Her golden hair seemed to possess every shade of that color, from the fairest silvery platinum to dark almost auburn honey. The layers that were drenched by the sun were brighter than what lay underneath. It fascinated him. As did the waving loose curls that ruffled in the night air. Her hair had a natural bend that most of his kindred lacked. Some _ellyth_, he knew, curled their hair. A few had natural waves, but none that he could think of possessed true curls.

The deep blue of her eyes was also unlike his kin. Whereas a light shone through elven eyes, hers were dark and mysterious. Like deep water, they kept many secrets from the outside world. Yet as he continued to travel with and know her, he became ever more adept at interpreting what lay behind her gaze. It helped that she wasn't so guarded anymore. And he was pleased that the division between them was bridged. He glanced down at her hand, which he still held.

He found something peculiarly soothing in comforting her for it comforted him as well. When he spoke at last, his words sounded loud to his ears after the stillness between them.

"You have told me something important because you trust me; I wish to do the same." He smiled slightly as her eyes lit up. Squeezing her hand gently, he continued. "I wish to tell you of my own history, of my home and family—but you must promise me that you will not treat me any differently after I have told you," he said seriously.

Her eyes were watching him with keen expectation and unabashed curiosity. "I promise. I would never treat you differently," she told him quickly.

"You know that I am from Mirkwood and that I am the son of Thranduil," he began.

Lana nodded, eager to hear more about his home. He had been as reticent as she when it came to talking about Mirkwood. She often wondered why that was.

"You know that my mother died when I was young, but you do not know of my lineage for it is one that bestows much responsibility I would rather be without most of the time." He paused, his gaze turning inward. "It is one I would prefer to forget."

Lana's eyes didn't leave his face. She sensed a great weight on his shoulders then. Her curiosity peaked but she kept silent.

Refocusing on her, he continued. "You once asked why Gimli and I do not get along,"

She nodded, remembering that day well.

"It is not merely because elves and dwarves are different. Gimli and I have a particularly estranged past. My father captured his father and imprisoned him within the dungeons in our halls."

Hearing this Lana's brows drew together. "Why would your father do such a thing?"

Knowing Gimli as she did, and knowing Legolas, she found it puzzling that his father would take such action. It didn't add up with the person she knew Legolas to be. Surely his father was compassionate like him? Like father like son? Apparently not.

Legolas sighed and looked away. Lana sensed something that might have been chagrin but was unsure. Either way, he seemed rather uncomfortable.

"It is because he does not trust outsiders, particularly dwarves. And I will admit, that for a time, I was as distrustful as he, but…" his lips thinned then. "My people have lived in near solitude since the last War of the Ring," he said changing the direction of his story. "Our beautiful woods grew dark and my people put forth their trust in other races less and less as time passed. We no longer ventured out into the world; not even to see others of our kind."

"That is why you'd never seen Lothlórien before," Lana realized aloud.

Legolas nodded slowly.

"Aye. Though I wanted to see it. I wanted to see all the places my people sang of from days of old, but my father would not allow me to leave our forest for many long years."

Lana frowned compassionately. It was clearly a frustrating situation—especially when one lived for centuries. She couldn't imagine not traveling. It was in her blood.

"You must understand, my father is known to be cold and ruthless due to what happened to my grandfather…and then to my mother…" he paused, and Lana squeezed his hand in support.

He smiled sadly but gratefully.

"My grandfather, Oropher, was killed in that first War of the Ring. He and many of our kinsmen were brutally slain. It is said that my father was witness to all of this, and it changed him—made him bitter. My mother…I've always been told I was much more like her, even though I resemble my father more in appearance than she."

The edges of Legolas' lips curved into a slight smile as he thought about his mother.

"She was free spirited, a distant kinswoman of Lord Celeborn who had ventured from Lothlórien—or Lindórinand, as it was called in those days. She met my father well before the war."

There was a distant look in his eyes as the old memories resurfaced after being forcefully suppressed for many long years.

"She had the most beautiful voice and her eyes…they shone like the stars on midsummer." His smile faded abruptly. "As darkness fell, the world became dangerous. My father decreed that none should venture from the kingdom unless pressed by the utmost need. But an old evil spawned in the north. The Witch King of Angmar wrecked havoc on our northern lands. My parents…they did all they could to secure our borders. To protect our people," his lips thinned.

"After I was born, my mother grew to despise the darkness that threatened our wood. She begged my father to confront Angmar—to force the enemy back to their lands. But he refused. It was enough to guard our borders. He refused to engage in all out war again."

Legolas took a deep breath, and then exhaled slowly.

"My mother grew angry and behind my father's back she led a contingent of our army to confront the enemy. They were attacked brutally orcs and she was brought back barely alive," he whispered.

Lana grasped his hand with both of hers tightly. She couldn't imagine the depth of his pain, yet she felt it. It threatened to drown her, but she opened herself to it, allowing herself to help him bear this sorrow as he did for her. She felt tears sting her eyes. Quickly she blinked them away.

"The healers…they did all that they could but it wasn't enough. There was a poison in her blood—the touch of Morgul blade."

A tremor ran through the elf as he relieved the pain once more. Legolas lowered his head, his blond hair spilling on either side of his neck.

"She died," he whispered brokenly.

"Legolas, I'm so, so sorry," Lana moaned. Lifting his hand she kissed it.

She willed the peace he so willing gave her back to him. Nothing can truly compare with the loss of a loved one—especially one's own mother. At least her mother was still back home. Even though she might never see her again, it was a comfort to know that she was alive and well.

"I was only twenty at the time, and it is said by my father's most trusted friends that I am the reason that he did not fade. Her passing was difficult for him…and it was unbearable for me too. I think that it hurt my father to see me grow and become much like her."

Legolas peered into Lana's eyes and was touched by the tears he saw there.

"Adventure called to my heart, and I desired to follow it. But my father would not let me leave. He feared that what happened to my mother could happen to me." Here his voice turned bitter.

"I can understand his apprehension," Lana said carefully. "He lost your mother, and after losing his father as well. Could you imagine if you were also lost to him?"

Legolas nodded, but his gaze shifted to stare out over the plains. There was still a lingering hurt in his heart. "Aye, some part of me understands that now. But then I did not," he sighed heavily and began rubbing Lana's fingers with his thumb.

"After a large battle before the dwarven Erebor, my father realized that he had to let me go." Legolas stopped speaking for a long while. His mind recalled the bitterness of that war. Though brief, it had caused him great turmoil.

"For a time I traveled north in search of the Dúnedain Rangers. I searched for the one by the name of Strider."

"Aragorn," Lana realized with a smile.

"Aye," Legolas answered her smile. "Aragorn was young, but had traveled far and wide, and he told me of the world and of the other elven realms. I longed to go with him to see Rivendell and the lands beyond our borders. But we traversed the wilds of the north until my father sent word that I should return. I grew angry but obeyed."

"There was rumor that the weapon of the Enemy had been found after centuries of being lost. And the creature, Gollum, who had once possessed it, was captured by Aragorn and brought to Mirkwood for safekeeping.

"I was pleased to see my friend once more, but the days were growing darker and it was with concern that he departed westward towards the Shire. I desired to go with him, but my father arranged for me to oversee the guards that watched over the creature. I was angry with him, but I did as I was instructed."

Legolas looked away into the night for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. Then he looked back to Lana.

"We held him for many months and he was not as difficult to guard as we were led to believe." Here he grimaced. "Or so we thought. A group of guards treated Gollum kindly and allowed him to walk above ground, breathe the fresh air, and stroll beneath the trees. They kept him near by leashing him with a rope."

"On a day that I was not on watch, Gollum went up into a tree, leading my kinsmen on a chase. Ultimately it was a trap. They were ambushed by orcs and all but a few were slain. Gollum was either taken or escaped. We knew not which."

Lana's lips parted. "You could have been one of the them…" she said in slowly realized horror.

Legolas nodded slowly. "Aye, but I came to regret what happened. I felt that if I had been there then perhaps things would have been different."

Lana squeezed his hand again, tighter this time. She felt his guilt keenly. Whether his presence would have made a difference none could say now, but she was relieved that he escaped a worse fate.

"It is not good to dwell on what could have been…trust me, I know," she said trying to interject a bit of humor. He responded with a slight smile. However, Lana sobered. "You might have made a difference…or you might have been killed as well. There is just no knowing,"

Legolas looked into her deep blue eyes and saw her concern. He covered their joined hands with his free one. _"Istan,"_ he whispered. "My father knew that he could not shelter me. The world was dark and full of peril. Not even hiding me away in our forest could protect me. He knew I was a skilled archer, the best in the kingdom, and that I could protect myself." He sighed. "When he discovered my love of archery as an elfling, he encouraged me and had me train with the preeminent archers of our wood."

Lana smiled, imaging a young Legolas training; running through the woods with his bow and arrows.

"Months passed after the horrible escape when word finally reached us from Lord Elrond. There was to be a council and delegates from every kingdom were asked to attend. My father surprised me when he ordered me and two of his advisors to go."

Lana tilted her head. "That must have been a difficult decision for him."

Legolas nodded, realizing now that it must have been hard for his father to watch his only child depart. And now to have no word for months, surely his father was wearing a rut in the great hall.

Lana pursed her lips thinking over what Legolas told her. But something nagged at her mind. A detail that seemed to be missing. First was that Aragorn had told her about the council meeting. He had told her that was how most of the Fellowship met. But there was something more to it. It was a highly important meeting and rulers were asked to send advisors.

Legolas' father had advisors…and he had borders to protect as well. Then there was his mother who had led an army… Speaking on a hunch, she nonchalantly said, "Your father must be a very important elf in Mirkwood. He seems to possess a great deal of power."

Legolas nodded. "He does," he agreed and then paused before going on. "For he is my King."

_I knew it!_ And mentally she congratulated herself on her keen intuition. Then it sank in properly. "So, that makes you…" she spoke carefully, waiting for him to say it.

Legolas smiled sadly, seeing the understanding in her eyes. "The prince," he finished for her.

Lana sat upright a bit but did not retract her hand. She was taking this rather well he thought. She didn't look as surprised as he thought she would. It just proved Lana was an unusual woman.

But then she wrinkled her nose. "You mean to tell me that I've acted like a complete ass and cried all over the _Prince_ of Mirkwood?" She asked sounding both equally embarrassed and annoyed.

She grimaced and lowered her gaze to their joined hands. Slowly she pulled hers away while wondering how one addressed royalty in this world.

"You could not know," he frowned and a bubble of protest popped in his chest as she withdrew her touch from him. He ignored it as he was more interested in seeing her eyes. At last she met his gaze. He saw puzzlement mingling with her growing irritation.

"And how does one address a prince in this world? Your highness?"

She started recounting in her head all the ridiculous and stupid things she had said and done around him. This only served to further annoy her. He had _allowed_ her to act like that.

"Do not call me that," Legolas said tersely. He had feared that something like this would happen. And to think she had started off taking it so well!

"You promised me that you would treat me no differently," he reminded her.

She sent him a dry look. "True," she replied. "But that was before I knew you were hiding this bombshell of a detail from me. Surely being royalty counts for something here in this world?"

Her expression made little sense, but her tone was clear.

"But that does not stop me from wishing to not be royal!" He told her forcefully.

Hearing the bitterness in his tone, Lana felt her own exasperation dissolve. His last words didn't actually surprise her. Obviously at home he would have been expected to behave a certain way, and perform certain duties. With power and privilege there came responsibility, and scrutiny; and, funnily enough, a certain loss of freedom.

He probably didn't have the luxury of fading into the background like she did. He was undoubtedly like a celebrity and couldn't escape the curious and nosey interest of others. And clearly, he was a catch on so many levels that she was certain he had been pursued within an inch of his life. Mentally she laughed at the image of the great warrior prince fending off hordes of enthusiastic elf-maidens.

But it had to be frustrating for someone like him who neither asked nor seemed to desire such a title to begin with.

"I am an elf and simply wish to be treated like one," he said, confirming her suspicions. "I breathe the same air that you do. I eat the same food and share the same earth. I am equal to you or Gimli or the hobbits."

Lana nodded, her mind still thinking. She wasn't sure how she felt about him keeping this from her. Part of her felt that he should have said something much sooner—but then she had kept her past a secret too.

"None other than Aragorn and Gimli knows who I am. It is unwise to tell strangers of our status. It could be dangerous. Since you now hold this knowledge, I would ask that you keep it to yourself."

"I promise," she said sincerely, but she continued to stare off into the distance.

He frowned; worried that perhaps he had frightened her. Reaching for her chin, he lifted it so that he could look into her eyes. They were unreadable.

"I trust you much like you trust me." He leaned in towards her. "I spoke to you because I felt, that as my friend, it was your right to know."

Slowly her lips curled and the warmth came back into her eyes. It lifted his spirits to see its return.

"I do not want you to treat me differently because of the family I was born into. I see you as my _equal,_" he emphasized again. "I hope that you see me as your equal as well," he baited.

He let go of her chin and held out his hand to her. Lana lifted a brow, her lips quirking. Without hesitation, she placed her hand in his. She felt his warmth as his fingers closed around hers.

Peering into his crystalline blue eyes, she studied his features as if seeing him for the first time. Her gaze traveled over his smooth alabaster skin, the perfect line of his nose, the nearly sensual lips. Roaming she followed the line of his jaw up to his long straight flaxen hair that was braided into warrior braids. His pointed ears no longer seemed alien but just right for him.

This was Legolas. He was Prince Legolas to his people, but to her, he was still Legolas who could fire a bow with deadly accuracy. He was the same Legolas who started teaching her Sindarin, and he was the same Legolas that she had started opening herself up to. And he was the very same Legolas with whom she had entrusted to know her dark history.

After hearing about his family and his own hardships, she trusted him even more. A title was a title, and nothing more. And if it was one he rather be without then she could easily ignore it. What were titles anyway?

"I _do_ see you as my equal," she told him at last. "And I will cherish the trust you place in me," she said with a warm smile. "Besides, I've met royalty before, so you're not all that special," she teased.

He chuckled relieved that her mood was light once more. After all the heady talk, it was good to laugh.

Their levity was short-lived though as Lana yawned suddenly. She was fighting to remain awake, and she now sat slumped instead of erect. He feared that she would be too weary to run the following morning.

"It is late and you must rest. We have more traveling to do tomorrow."

Lana wrinkled her nose at that. All this talking about the past made her forget about the future. _"__Istan. Hannon le, Aureos,"_ she said smiling warmly. "For everything," she added in the common tongue.

"Aureos?" He questioned with raised brows.

Lana smiled. "Yes. Your nickname." She felt a light flush creeping up on her. "It's Latin. It roughly translates into 'golden light.'"

Legolas grinned. "You have given me the nickname 'Golden Light'?"

Her smile widened sheepishly. She was definitely blushing now. But she forged ahead. "Yes, because that's what you are to me. _Mallen calad nín ned lû o fuin." My golden light in a time of darkness._

Legolas' grin broadened even as his heart sang loudly with joy. Lana had told him of her past, had accepted his, and now she had given him an _epessë_. He squeezed her hand in glee and she squeezed back, grinning as well.

He became amused as she looked away shyly.

"Come, Cairnmel. Before Aragorn worries anymore than I am certain he already is."

She nodded and allowed him to help her to her feet.

Aragorn watched as both Lana and Legolas returned. He had not seen them holding hands but knew that something had happened between them other than idle conversation. They both looked content and very relaxed with each other. It was a dramatic change from the nervousness and sullen disquiet of before.

The Ranger watched with muted interest as Legolas crouched down beside Lana as she laid down. The elf pulled his cloak more firmly about her, stroked her hair from her face. Then he stood, watching over; already enforcing his duty as a protector.

Aragorn gave a soft sigh and turned his eyes away.

* * *

_Thoughts? Comments? Questions? Concerns?_

_As always thanks for reading! _


	20. Riders of Rohan

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story. **

I make no claim to Tolkien's works_._ I also give credit to Cormak3032.

* * *

**Chapter 19: Riders of Rohan**

_"You really should cut an album or something, Lana. You've seriously got the talent for it."_

_Lana wrinkled her nose at Marie. They sat at their favorite 50's diner in East London sipping milkshakes and eating chips. It was a weird habit Lana picked up as a child, but she loved dipping her chips into her milkshake. Something about the sugar and salt together…_

_"You know I don't sing anymore, Marie." She brushed off her friend's suggestion._

_The gorgeous brunette shook her head. Her hair was elegantly coiffed into dual victory roles. Not a single hair moved. There was enough hairspray on her head to burn a hole in the atmosphere. But Marie didn't care. She loved everything vintage, just as much as Lana loved chips and milkshakes._

_Her friend knew that she was still healing from her ordeal. Lana always wore long sleeves now. She was tired of the attention her scar would attract. People would gawk then quickly look away; others who were bolder would say something; children were the worst._

_"Mummy! Look at her arm!" It was enough to make Lana want to slap the mannerless brats._

_The looks wouldn't last though. Today they were going to check out a well-recommended tattoo parlor on this side of town. Lana had wanted to get it covered by something beautiful. Maybe she'd get that Egyptian cat goddess tattoo she'd been wanting._

_Catching her best friend's concern look Lana smiled._

_"Don't worry! I'm doing much better now, Marie. Besides I took your advice," she baited playfully. __Marie raised an elegant brow. __"I found someone that I could talk to about everything, and I really feel so much better now."_

_Marie brightened then. "Have you found a good therapist then?"_

_Lana flapped her hand negatively. "No. I've told Legolas."_

_Marie gave her a bald look. "Who?"_

_"Legolas, you know him," she said rolling her eyes at her friend's obvious obtuseness._

_Marie lifted that neatly plucked brow again. Sitting back she crossed her arms. "No…I'm afraid I don't. Is he someone you met at the hospital? He sounds foreign." Then catching the sparkle in Lana's eyes, she grinned. "He is cute then?"_

_Lana snorted, not about to discuss love interests with Marie now. Instead she described Legolas, trying to jog her friend's memory. Marie had to have met Legolas. Lana didn't know why she was acting otherwise._

_"Legolas—you know, tall, long blond hair, amazing at archery. Elf," she said, her tone taking on a dreamy quality without her notice._

_Marie sat up. "What did you just say?"_

_"He's tall, blond—"_

_"No, the last word you said."_

_"Elf?" She repeated nonchalantly stirring her milkshake with a chip._

_Marie frowned deeply. "Lana, are you feeling well?"_

_She rolled her eyes. "Of course! I'm fine—in fact, better than fine. I just can't believe that you don't know who I'm talking about."_

_Astonished by her friend's lack of acquaintance with Legolas, Lana frowned. And now Marie was giving her a weird look._

_"I know I've told you about him before—of how he protected me, and how he's become such a good friend. He's sort of like Aidan, in that I can tell him anything. But he's become a lot closer than Aidan ever was." Lana giggled. "I can't believe I said that, but it's true. We get on so well."_

_"Lana, you've completely lost me," Marie told her. "I don't know of anyone named Legaless; and I've never met your brother. I didn't know he was around."_

_Lana frowned deeply. Now she knew, she just knew that Marie and her brother had met before. Something wasn't right. A nagging feeling nipped at the back of her brain. How could Marie not know about Legolas? Or Aidan? Her frown deepened as Marie leaned across the table, covering her hand with her own._

_"I'm really worried about you, Lana," she said in a low voice. "You're speaking nonsense. I mean, really. Elves named Legaless."_

_"It's Le-go-las," Lana pronounced growing irritated._

_"Whatever Lana, but you're starting to really worry me." The brunette shook her head. "I mean I know you've been through a lot, but hallucinations? I think you need to have your doctor change your medication. It's making you delusional."_

_Lana surged to her feet causing the chair she was sitting in to fall back. Everyone in the diner turned to look at her but she didn't care._

_"I am not hallucinating! Or delusional! How could you say that to me? You know what I've been through! You know how difficult my life has been! How dare you!" Lana thrust an accusatory finger at the shocked brunette. "I thought you were my friend, Marie! My _best_ friend! Have I ever lied to you about anything? Of course there are such things as elves. I've met them!"_

_Marie looked pointedly from Lana to the people staring at them. "Would you please sit down?" She hissed. "You're causing a scene." __Marie then changed her mind. Grabbing her purse she said, "Look, I'm going to get you home. Clearly you're stressed out and tired."_

_Furiously Lana shot back. "No, I am not!" She exclaimed. "Elves do exist! And so do dwarves and wizards and…and hobbits! I've seen them. They're my friends. I'm traveling with them."_

_"Lana—"_

_"No!" Lana shouted. "You're not listening to me!"_

_She slammed her right fist down forgetting that Boromir had cut her there. The milkshakes fell over spilling all over the table and onto the black and white tiled floor._

_Marie's eyes grew wide and when she spoke her voice was thick with concern and confusion. "Lana…let me take you home before you hurt yourself."_

_"NO!" Lana cried loudly. "You think I'm crazy! You all think I'm crazy!" She yelled at the diners. "They're real!"_

"Lana? Lana!"

Someone grabbed her shoulders and thinking that they were going to restrain her, she lashed out violently. The hands did not leave her alone, but gripped her tightly, pushing her to the ground and pinning her arms to her sides.

_"Daro, Cairnmel! Im nin!" Stop, Cairnmel! It's me!_

The voice and the strange words made Lana stop struggling. Instantly her eyes flew open. Breathing heavily, she realized that there was no music playing, no chatter or laughter. She was no longer at the diner with Marie.

She was on the damp earth; she could feel the dew soaking through her clothes. All was quiet except for her loud breathing. She could feel the warmth and weight of someone holding her to the ground.

Looking up into familiar and concerned blue eyes, she exhaled explosively. The dark brows she knew so well were drawn together, and the pale face with the pointed ears; the straight blond hair…

"Legolas!" She exhaled. As she started to rise he released her. Lana sat up, quickly throwing her arms around his neck.

He was surprised by her action. A sudden joy filled his spirit when he realized that she sought him for comfort after her nightmare. He returned the embrace, holding her securely to him. He could both feel and hear her heart racing.

They held each other for a few moments before Lana released him, but she did not pull away completely. Instead she curled up against him, her head resting beneath his chin. She pressed her cheek to his chest; desperate to absorb the comfort he so willingly gave. She was still breathing heavily and she forced her heart to slow down.

"It was a dream," she murmured against the suede of his tunic. The material rubbed against her lips as she spoke. She inhaled the scent of him, acknowledging to herself his realness.

"Aye it was," he replied, though he was concerned now. Gently he swept back some of the hair that had fallen into Lana's face. "You were crying out in your sleep." He tilted his head to better see her.

Lana bowed her head, avoiding his questioning eyes. She pressed her lips together in a thin line.

"What was I saying?" She asked after a moment.

"At first it was nonsense that I could not understand, but then you began to cry out that something was real." He shifted causing her to look up at him. "That elves were real and that you were not…crazy." He whispered softly.

Lana became frustrated then. Her expression was one of complete hurt and disgust.

"I tried to tell Marie—my _best_ friend—that you and the others were real. But she wouldn't believe me. She thought that I was crazy and that my medication was making me see things."

She sat back and looked Legolas over thoroughly. Slowly she reached out a hand towards him. He did not move except for his eyes, which focused on her cautious hand. She pressed her fingers to his cheek. His skin was warm and smooth to the touch.

"You _are_ real, aren't you?" She asked, now sounding unsure. "Or am I dreaming?"

Legolas covered the hand on his face with his own and brought it to rest over his heart. It beat with a steady rhythm beneath her palm.

"I am real. This is no dream."

Slowly Lana nodded and looked out over the land. It was still dim but there was a steady lightening to the east. "We're on the plains of Rohan and we're trying to rescue Merry and Pippin," she said more to herself than to him.

Legolas nodded.

Lana said nothing for a few moments, lost in her thoughts. Then she gave an irritated snort. Her right hand balled into a fist. She grimaced and held it with her left as the dull ache of her cut barked at her.

"Why wouldn't she believe me?" She muttered fretfully as she cradled her hand. "I've never lied to her, but when I tried to tell her…she wouldn't listen."

Legolas leaned in close, and drew her back into his embrace. His breath was warm on her hair. "It was a dream, Cairnmel. Many times they have neither meaning nor logic. Do not allow it to haunt you for it will only cause you to suffer needlessly."

She looked up into his light eyes. They were filled with an emotion she didn't recognize. Inexplicably, she felt both drawn to him and unexpectedly nervous. She looked at her hands, confused.

"It's hard to _not_ dwell on it," she said, covering her confused feelings with her confusing dream. "It felt so _real_. And Marie is my friend…or she was." She sighed and rubbed a hand over the grass. "But I guess that's what would happen though." She looked up at him.

He waited for her to explain.

"If I went home, no one would believe that you or the others are real. They would think I was crazy. I would have to bury all my memories of this place…" Her voice lowered.

Legolas captured her roaming hand and held it with the other in both of his. His eyes wandered over her face: the elegant sweep of her brows that winged over eyes of deepest blue, the fading bruise on her cheek. The blond hair was darker than his own, but so richly colored as to make his look washed out by comparison.

"If Marie is truly your friend then she would believe you, but you must not trouble yourself with thinking on what will never be." Legolas gave her a sad smile. "You know you cannot return home."

Lana looked away at that. She still refused to believe it. Even now, despite the fact that she was becoming so attached to her new friends. It was frightening. Really she ought to be figuring out how to get home, but there just hadn't been the chance. But then, had she really even tried? A sudden guilt formed into a queasy ball in her stomach.

Legolas grew worried when she didn't respond. He feared that she might close herself off once more. While he was far from his home, he could not compare is losses to hers. He dreaded to think if he ever was bereft of his home and the people he loved. Dare he admit it, but he would even miss his heavy-handed father.

Lana exhaled deeply trying to release the torrent of emotions that warred within her heart and mind. The dream kept replaying over and over in her brain.

"Marie was thinking that I had completely lost it, and I shouted at her…and everyone looked at us. But I didn't care. I just wanted her to believe me. I wanted her to believe that you and the others were real. That was so important to me."

She felt Legolas' hands tighten over hers.

"I can still see and hear everything so perfectly," she mused aloud. She could still taste the strawberry milkshake too. The thought of it made her mouth water. Her stomach garbled miserably.

_"Istan,"_ the elf told her softly. "But it will pass."

He ran his thumbs over her fingers. Then he released a heavy sigh before he gazed to the east. Lana followed his eyes.

"The sun will be rising soon." Legolas returned his gaze to Lana's. "Aragorn wished for me to awaken you so that we could continue our journey," he told her. "But I allowed you to sleep longer because I had not the heart to rouse you. However, I fear my actions have made things more difficult for you."

He tilted his head studying Lana's face, noting how tired she looked. His voice became filled with self-reproach. "Because I allowed you the extra rest, you dreamt and it has upset you. I fear that you will be weary and that your mind will be troubled."

Lana could plainly see that Legolas was worried bout her. The unknown emotion she had seen was guilt. His brows were furrowed and his lips pursed as his eyes looked her over critically. He was blaming himself for things he shouldn't.

"I'll be fine," she told him, squeezing his hands.

She gave him a warm smile to ease his concern. He gave her an uncertain look in return but nodded. He continued to caress her hands with his thumbs, and the warmth of his body and the friendship in his eyes was a soothing reminder of her reality. For once, she truly believed that she would be fine. The dream would pass as they all did with time. It would lose its potency and she would continue on with her friends beside her.

Finding Merry and Pippin was top priority—not some ridiculous dream conjured by an overwrought mind. Squeezing his hands one last time she withdrew them.

"Let me eat something and then I'll be ready to travel," she reassured him.

Her voice was stronger now and she no longer appeared quite so tired. Legolas looked her over thoroughly but seemed satisfied that she wasn't hiding anything from him.

"I will bring you some _lembas_ and water so that you may have the strength to carry on today."

Lana nodded absently and watched as he moved off to one of the small packs. Unexpectedly she felt a prick of loss as he moved away. Which was ridiculous! _What's wrong with me today?_ Mentally shaking her head, she searched through her backpack for her hairbrush.

As she combed out the tangles in her hair she covertly watched Legolas rummage about seeking breakfast. His long pale hair drifted across his face in the morning breeze. Casually he tucked it behind his pointed ear. He was not wearing his weapons or cloak, and it made him look taller, leaner even.

As if feeling her gaze upon him, Legolas turned and glanced back over his shoulder at her. He smiled almost affectionately. Lana smiled in return, feeling her cheeks color at being caught staring. Diverting her attention back to her hair, she deftly braided it into a single thick plait.

When she looked up again, Legolas had returned to the task of finding breakfast. It was then that Lana knew that she did not need elvish waybread to make her strong. She had already found her strength for the day: and it had come in the form of a tall Mirkwood prince with a soothing touch, honest words, and a luminous smile.

There was no more talk of the dream. Lana forced it to the back of her mind and focused her mind to the task at hand. They had hobbits to rescue. Legolas gave her some of the bread then broke a piece for each of his companions.

Breakfast was spent in relative silence, except for the brief conversation between Legolas and Lana when she returned his cloak to him. As soon as they all had finished eating, they began their journey.

The sun had yet to clear the horizon, but the sky was already brighter than before. There was enough light for Legolas to see the trail and he led the way until the sun began to shine over the line of the horizon.

The elf frowned and slowed his pace as the sun crested the skyline.

"A red sun rises," he said ominously. "Blood has been spilt this night."

Aragorn rushed past him not daring to stop, and hardly trusting to hope that the elf's intuition was wrong. Legolas raced after him.

Lana and Gimli continued at a steady pace, but they shared a look. Gimli knew what the woman was thinking.

"It doesn't mean that it is the wee hobbits, lassie. A red sun is an old wives' tale. 'Tis like when they say it will rain when livestock lies down."

"I know what a wives' tale is, Gimli," she replied, keeping the annoyance out of her voice. "But I've never heard one like that before. And Legolas sounded really worried."

Her lips turned down as she glanced after the elf ran ahead on winged feet. An uneasy feeling nipped at her mind like an annoying dog, refusing to be brushed aside. It was a feeling of dread akin to when you did something you know you shouldn't have, and retribution was inescapable.

"He is an elf, lassie, not a god." The dwarf reminded her. "He only has his intuitions, which are not always correct. The elves are not as perfect as you think they are," Gimli said lifting his brows.

Then he picked up the pace and trudged after the two taller figures. Lana set her jaw and followed. She hoped that Legolas was wrong for once, because she honestly did know what she would do if they lost her two favorite hobbits.

It was well into the afternoon when Aragorn halted unexpectedly. Legolas stopped beside the man who was now crouching down, touching the earth. Gimli and Lana caught up moments later.

"What is it?" She wheezed.

She hunched over, hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath. Her legs and back were absolutely killing her today. It was a miracle she was able to run at all!

"There are riders several leagues off," he muttered distractedly. "How many, Legolas?"

The Ranger strained his eyes, squinting and tilting his head but no matter how he much he tried the riders were no more than a blur on the plains to him.

"One hundred and five from my count. Yellow is their hair and bright are their spears. Their leader is tall. They are moving quickly and will be here in a short time," Legolas replied, shielding his eyes against the sun.

The riders were clear to him. He could see the horsehair streaming from the tops of their helms and the gleam of their armor. The horses' shoes flashed as the graceful mounts took each stride, and white froth fell from their mouths as they chomped on their iron bits.

"Their steeds are swift and they travel over the plains as if their horses had wings," Aragorn murmured.

Lana shifted and stood upright. "What are we going to do?" She asked, squinting to see the blur of riders.

The three hunters seemed in awe of these riders, but she was more concerned about whether they were friends or foes. One hundred and five riders would easily overpower four pedestrians. No contest there.

"We must take cover," Aragorn said decisively.

Lana looked about. Other than a short rocky outcropping there was nowhere to hide.

"Take cover _where_ exactly?" She frowned. "We're severely lacking in hiding places."

"We cannot just stand here in plain sight, lass," Gimli told her; nervousness made him irritable.

"Our cloaks," Legolas said suddenly, and he grabbed the side of his. "Lord Celeborn said that they would shield us from unfriendly eyes. If we sit behind that rock and wrap up in our cloaks, we may escape being seen. Hard and fast they ride, and they could miss us."

Aragorn nodded. "Let it be done!"

And so the four sat draped in their cloaks. Lana thought this was a terrible idea, but hunkered down. She tucked her braid back into her hood so the golden sheen wouldn't give her away. The sun passed behind some clouds further aiding their ruse. It was not long before the sound of hundreds of hooves could be heard hitting the earth. The force of it shook the ground.

Lana's heart skipped with excitement, and she partly wished she could stand on the rock behind her so as to watch the riders instead of cowering behind it. Still, she had no wish to be roadkill either.

The sound grew louder and louder until it rivaled thunder. Lana held her breath as the riders appeared and galloped past them at breakneck speed. It was a spectacular sight and it made her heart pulse with exhilaration and no small amount of fear. The column of riders swept down the hill and away. It appeared that they had not seen them. Luck was on their side for once.

Without warning, Aragorn got to his feet and let his cloak fall back. Lana's eyes grew wide.

_"What is he doing?"_ She hissed in alarm.

"Riders of Rohan! What news from the Mark?" Aragorn called out in a loud clear voice. Immediately the leader of the riders wheeled about, the herd following fast.

Gimli and Legolas rose to their feet to join Aragorn, but when Lana attempted to stand both the dwarf and the elf pushed her back down. She gave them each an affronted look.

"Someone must save the hobbits if this plan goes awry," Gimli told her.

"You will be safer here," Legolas said in a firm voice. "No matter what happens, do not stray from your hiding place; not until we summon you."

"But—"

"Do not argue, lass. We know not what the outcome of this shall be. 'Tis for your own good," Gimli said siding with Legolas.

Lana glowered darkly at them as they moved to Aragorn's side. Huffing she pulled her cloak tighter about herself. "For my own good my_ ass!"_ She grumbled.

If any of them was attacked or killed she wouldn't be able to do much good at all. She couldn't track, nor fight very well. And she had no idea of where to go. Sighing explosively, she watched the action unfold.

The riders had turned on a pin and were rapidly approaching the standing trio. They had moved further into the open land away from the rock. The riders thundered towards them and Lana bit her lip to keep from shouting. They were going to get run down! But at the last moment the horses slowed to a trot and noosed tightly around the intruders. It was an impressive display of horsemanship.

The three warriors stood close together, back-to-back. They watched the riders and horses close the ring ever more tightly around them.

Lana's heart was thundering like those sharp hooves and she found it difficult to breathe. Her fingers curled tightly in the folds of her cloak and she chewed mercilessly on her lip. The riders at last halted, bearing down heavy lances towards her friends.

Aragorn raised his hands in a show of surrender and to demonstrate that he was not wielding his weapons.

A tall rider on a gray horse broke from the ranks. "What business do you have in the Riddermark?" He demanded loudly.

Lana noted his fine armor and the silver wrought helm with its plume of white horse hair.

"Speak quickly!" He demanded when no one answered him.

Gimli rested his hands casually on his large ax. "Give me your name, horse master, and I shall give you mine."

The rider glared down at the audacious dwarf, his dark eyes flashing. Stiffly he passed his spear to a nearby rider and dismounted. He stepped steadily towards the dwarf, towering over him.

"I would cut off your head, dwarf, if it stood but a little higher from the ground," he spat.

Faster than the eye could track, Legolas loaded his bow. Recklessly ignoring the hundreds of spear-points just inches from his head he drew back on his mighty weapon.

"You would die before your stroke fell!" He threatened.

The arrow was aimed at the man's face. He would surely die should the arrow fly, but that would also be the end of her friends. Mentally Lana screamed at Legolas to not do anything stupid.

The riders had raised their spears in defense of their captain. Thankfully Aragorn stepped forward and pushed Legolas' arm down. Gimli's released the breath he had been holding. With stiff movements, Legolas replaced the arrow into his quiver. His eyes still gleamed with anger.

"Have you sprung out of the grass?" The man asked, looking them over. "How did you escape our sight? Are you elvish folk?"

"Only one of us is an elf, and he is Legolas of the Woodland Realm," Aragorn answered glance to Legolas.

The horseman and elf exchanged cool glares.

"I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn," the Ranger announced. "I come from the north." He gestured to the dwarf. "And this is Gimli, son of Glóin. We are hunting orc and have tracked them into your lands. We are friends of Rohan and of Théoden, your king."

The man looked them over critically. His gaze was still hostile and suspicious.

"Théoden no longer recognizes friend from foe." Reaching for his helm he removed it, revealing a golden mane of wavy hair. "Not even his own kin." There was bitterness in his voice and a subdued righteous anger in his eyes. At his gesture, the riders lifted their spears.

Lana exhaled in relief. Her body shook with the adrenaline rush. Still hidden she boldly studied the able-bodied man. Aside from Aragorn, who was dark, and Boromir who had been a ruddy chestnut brown, she had yet to see other races of men in this world.

This man was a sturdy fellow. Tall, broad shouldered and confident, he reminded her of a Viking. In all fairness, he was rather handsome. Her eyes looked him over analytically from head to toe. Then she had to snort in self-recrimination. _What is it with you and blondes lately?_ Normally she fancied tall, dark, and handsome. But this horse guy…_Knock it off!_

"Saruman has poisoned the mind of the king and claimed lordship over these lands," the man continued.

Aragorn looked bewildered by this news. He gazed briefly over the lush plains.

"My company are those still loyal to Rohan. And for that we are banished," the rider said. "The White Wizard is cunning," he added darkly. His eyes gazed suspiciously at Gimli. "He walks here and there they say, as an old man hooded and cloaked," his glance shifted to Aragorn. "And everywhere his spies slip past our nets." He finished, staring point blank at Legolas.

The elf returned the frosty stare with one of his own. It was all he could do to not load his bow and shove an arrow through the imperious man's face.

"We are no spies," Aragorn interjected before any trouble arose. "We track a party of uruk-hai westward across the plain. They have taken two of our friends captive," he explained gravely.

The man gave Aragorn a bald look. "The uruks were destroyed; we slaughtered them during the night."

"But there were two hobbits!" Gimli exclaimed. "Did you see two hobbits with them?"

"They would be small, only children to your eyes," Aragorn explained as worry tightened his gut.

The rider shifted his weight and looked down thinking. Shaking his head, he met Aragorn's gaze. "We left none alive." Turning he pointed to the west where a plume of gray-white smoke rose to the sky. "We piled the carcasses and burned them."

"Dead?" Gimli said in shock.

The man nodded slowly, appearing regretful. "I am sorry."

Legolas lowered his head as anguish split his heart. He placed a hand on Gimli's shoulder as much to comfort the dwarf as to steady himself. The combined sorrow of Aragorn and Gimli mingling with his own was stifling. He swallowed thickly.

"Might we request horses so that we may see if it is indeed true?" Aragorn asked. "We have traveled from Amon Hen for many days on foot."

The rider's brows lifted. "'Tis but a large gift you ask the Marshal of the Riddermark. Our horses are our livelihood."

Aragorn nodded. So this was Éomer, the king's nephew they were dealing with. Éomer studied Aragorn and his companions over thoroughly.

"I will lend you horses, heir of Elendil, with the promise that when your quest is fulfilled or thwarted that you return to the Golden Hall of Meduseld in Edoras. You will prove to the king that I have not misjudged. I do this in good faith. Do not fail," he said sternly.

Aragorn nodded, pleased that Éomer recognized who he was. And that alone might have saved them.

"We agree to this, Éomer, Third Marshal of the Riddermark," Aragorn told him.

Éomer nodded, also please to have been recognized. "This may be well enough for a man and an elf, but who has heard of a horse of the Mark given to a dwarf?" Éomer asked, his voice thick with prejudice.

"No one," Gimli grunted, looking up at the beasts that towered over him. "And do not trouble. No one will hear of it. I would much rather walk then sit astride such a beast."

"You must ride, Gimli, or you will slow us down," Legolas told him. "You shall ride with me so that we may find our friends," he offered. The dwarf grumbled under his breath. Whoever heard of an elf and dwarf riding on the same horse? But the arrangement would have to do.

Éomer whistled and two horses were brought forth; a chestnut and a white sporting a silvery mane and tail.

"This is Hasufel," the Marshal said, gesturing to the chestnut with a white star on its head. "And this is Arod. May these horses bear you to better fortune than their former masters."

Aragorn gently took Hasufel's reins while Legolas took Arod's.

"Farewell," Éomer said to them. Replacing his helm, he mounted and took back his spear. "Look for your friends, but do not trust to hope." He said grimly. His eyes flickered to the rolling hills. "It has forsaken these lands." He spoke resentfully.

Then signaling to the company of riders he commanded them. "We ride north!"

His dapple gray stallion peeled away, the rest of the riders following on his heels. Hasufel and Arod watched as their friends rode off with pricked ears. Arod snorted and bobbed his head until Legolas placed a gentle hand on the stallion's neck.

As if sensing his grief the animal turned and nudged the elf gently. Legolas patted him again.

Aragorn ran his fingers over Hasufel's braided reins then looked to the west where the smoke was rising. Not a word was said. Sighing deeply he mounted the Rohan-bred steed and nudged him to where Lana was now standing.

Loose pieces of her hair were cut up in the wind and her deep blue eyes were filled with indescribable grief. Slowly he met her gaze, halting the stallion in front of her.

"Is it true? Are they…?" She could not bring herself to say the word. It was too final.

"We know not for certain," Aragorn answered truthfully, but there was little hope in his eyes.

Offering his hand to her, he beckoned. "Come."

Hasufel extended his nose toward her then head-butted her. Lana stumbled back and gave the horse a sour look. Stepping aside she eyed the stallion suspiciously. It had been many years since she last sat on a horse.

"You have nothing to fear," Aragorn assured her, patting the animal.

Hasufel seemed to relax under the Ranger's touch. Lana moved around, then paused, looking to the west where the smoking was rising—her heart was pounding most painfully. Finally, she took Aragorn's hand and he hauled her up with confounding ease behind him.

Taking up the reins he turned slightly to speak over his shoulder. "Hold on to me," he ordered softly.

Lana did so, wrapping her arms securely around the Ranger's waist. The white stallion came trotting up beside them carrying Legolas and Gimli. The dwarf was clinging tightly to the elf looking miserable.

Legolas gave Lana a dim smile bereft of joy while Gimli had a look of annoyance. He didn't seem at all pleased with the current traveling conditions. Lana was soon to find out that neither was she.

"Let us ride," Aragorn said.

The chestnut sprang forward when the Ranger's boots tapped his sides. Lana quickly squeezed her knees trying to keep her seat behind the man. Riding doubled up was a whole new experience for her—and she had never ridden faster than a trot before.

The stallions tore across the plains, their hooves kicking up grass and earth as they went. Lana clung tightly to Aragorn as the scenery whipped past them. Closing her eyes, she rested her face against Aragorn's back, unable to look out as they went. She prayed that what the horseman said wasn't true—her silent pleas rising like the plume of gray smoke ahead.

* * *

_As always, thanks for reading. _


	21. The Borders of Fangorn

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.**

I make no claims on Tolkien's works. I also give credit to Cormak3032.

As a thank you to each and everyone of you who has reviewed this story, here is one more chapter.

* * *

**Chapter 20: The Borders of Fangorn**

The first thing that reached them was the smell. Though the smoke was blowing towards the north, the stench of burning putrid flesh hung in the air for miles. Lana felt herself gag and quickly covered her nose and mouth with an arm.

A huge pile of smoldering carcasses stood at least fifteen feet high. Weapons were scattered everywhere. As they neared, they saw a line of silvery helms propped up on broken spears. Beneath each of them was a mound.

Around the still smoking pyre was a ring of decapitated uruk-hai heads on spikes. Legolas maneuvered Arod as his eyes surveyed the area. There was no sign of life and he felt dread capture his soul. He turned to Aragorn who had dismounted his stallion and was helping Lana down. The mortal woman held up her cloak to her face. The elf didn't know if she was crying or protecting herself from the stench.

Legolas dismounted smoothly then offered a hand to Gimli. The dwarf took the proffered assistance without hesitation. His heart was bleeding with grief.

Aragorn immediately began scouring the earth for clues, but the ground was turned up so violently that it was impossible to read with any certainty. If there was a sign of the hobbits, he didn't see it. Meanwhile Gimli moved to the burning pile and began sifting gingerly through it. He ceased when something familiar caught his attention. Carefully he picked it up.

"It's one of their wee belts…" he whispered, his voice catching.

Lana choked back a sob. It was Merry's belt. She recognized the hilt of the knife that the Lady Galadriel had given to him. Shuddering she turned away, trying to contain herself. But the smell, the sight, and the emotions roiling through her made it difficult to retain any sort of composure.

Legolas bowed his head, his eyes closing in sorrow. Gripping his heart, he murmured, _"Hiro hyn hîdth ab 'wanath." _

_Let them find peace after death._

He moved his hand outwards in the traditional elven farewell.

Aragorn moved restlessly around the pile of ash and bodies. Then in a fit of pure rage and frustration he kicked an uruk helmet with all his might releasing a howl of utter defeat and failure. The helm flew through the air to land some yards away. But Aragorn did not watch its path. Falling to his knees he groaned gripping his head in his hands.

For a moment the sun disappeared behind the clouds, and the sky darkened.

The others watched this scene with mixed reactions of surprise and understanding. Lana was the most surprised of them all. Never had she seen Aragorn so distressed. Not after Moria, not even after the death of Boromir. He was blaming himself.

Lana was compelled to go to him and hold him, but something kept her frozen in place. She felt…she felt so much that she became numb. Tears slid heedlessly and silently down her cheeks. Her brain couldn't process all this death. A familiar switch went off in her head that prevented her from thinking or feeling anything further. It was a selfish survival tactic that she had developed as a war correspondent. But it protected her from spiraling into total despair.

However her mind was persistent, and thoughts continued to track like headlines at the bottom of a news screen.

_First Gandalf. Then Boromir. And now…Merry and Pippin…dearest Merry, and sweet, sweet Pippin._

She recalled the afternoon that had solidified their friendship. The day she had taught them about rock n' roll. The tears came faster, blurring her vision. Grimacing she turned her head. It seemed that by opening herself up she had weakened her mental resolve. She could already feel herself crumbling.

Mere seconds passed before she felt a warm hand slip over hers. Opening her eyes, she gazed into Legolas' grief stricken face. The elf was watching the tears slide down her cheeks then his gaze shifted to hers.

Peering deeply into her sapphire colored eyes he held her hand tightly, trying to comfort her and himself. His heart was filled with so much sorrow and the sight of Lana's tears nearly did him in. But too many years had he trained as a warrior. His soldier upbringing was engrained in him.

Lana squeezed his hand, covering both of theirs with her free one. She moved closer to Legolas, bringing their hands to her heart. His strength was her lifeline as she struggled to control the whirlwind of her emotions.

"We failed them," they heard Gimli say.

No one said a word to contradict him. Legolas drew Lana closer to his side. All the while he kept a secure hold on her hand. His grief compounded as he realized that not only was their Fellowship broken, but it also grew smaller with what felt like each passing day.

The elf gazed solemnly at Aragorn who was kneeling on the earth with one hand now covering his face; then to Gimli who had bowed his head on his ax. And finally he looked down at Lana who stood tucked against his arm. Her eyes were now closed, but tears continued to fall, leaving glistening tracks on her cheeks.

He furrowed his brow as a new thought struck him. Who among them would be next? Aragorn and Gimli were both great warriors, but there were always mishaps in battle; things that even the best-trained warriors couldn't foresee. There was always a chance that either of them could fall. What would he do if that should happen?

Beyond all expectation, Gimli had become a friend—one who had some how managed to endear himself to Legolas. Instead of growing irritated he found the dwarf's gruffness amusing and his steadfast nature dependable. Their bickering had turned into comradely banter.

Then there was Aragorn. The man was a brother-in-arms—perhaps the closest person Legolas would dare to call a blood brother. Despite the man's youth he had shown Legolas more of the world than anyone; and he had opened his mind. Compassion instead of prejudice; servitude over being served; taking orders instead of issuing them. The Ranger had broken down the prince to reveal the elf that had been buried beneath. It would break him should Estel fall.

And what of Lana?

His heart started to pound. She did not fight well and had nearly died once already. Would she be next? The odds were against her, and the mere thought of her dying made Legolas' heart contract painfully. Without his conscious permission, his hand tightened on hers, and he put his arm around her shoulders.

The action caused her to look up at him, and for a long moment she stared into his troubled eyes. He could see the question in her face, but he said nothing. Words failed him. Instead, Legolas covered their hands with his free one as he studied her intently.

"A hobbit lay here…" Aragorn sighed softly, his hand touching a spot on the ground near to where he sat. At those words, everyone looked to him. The Ranger swept his hand over the earth. "And the other," he confirmed lowly.

He continued to stare at the ground. Then a frown furrowed his features, and he crouched down to the earth, studying it closely.

"They crawled," he said, his voice sounding perplexed.

Slowly he moved along the ground, following the tracks, steadily moving away from the pile of burning carcasses.

"Their hands were bound."

As he moved his tone slowly rose with confusion. He dared not to hope but… He stood moving among the trample footprints. Suddenly he knelt down. "Their bonds were cut!" He pulled up a frayed rope.

Rising again he studied the earth with wide eyes. Now his heart rose in earnest. The others followed him, their spirits lifting at what seemed the impossible. Circling around himself, Aragorn followed the hobbits' trail.

"They ran over here," he continued, gesturing to the dirt. "They were followed…"

Picking up his pace, he began to trot and then run away from the scene of the chaotic fight.

"The tracks lead away from the battle!" He called out excitedly. He ran following them only to skid to a halt before the tangled mass of trees ahead. "Into Fangorn Forest." He breathed, his tone turning anxious.

The others gathered behind him to stare up into the dark boughs.

"Fangorn," Gimli echoed with a shudder. "What madness drove them in there?"

At his tremulous tone, Lana stared at him, baffled. Gimli was never scared. She couldn't understand why they were suddenly frozen in place. The tracks showed that they hobbits were most likely still alive!

"Why are we stopping? We need to find them! Come on! Let's go!" She called with determination, taking a step towards the forest.

Aragorn caught her arm. "We know not if they are alive," he said. Lana made a face of exasperation at his words, but before she could reply he continued. "But we can hope. They escaped once, let us hope they have done so again."

Lana looked directly into Aragorn's gray eyes. They were shining with tentative hope.

"Then what are we waiting for?" She demanded.

Had they all gone mad? After all this running and tracking she would have thought her companions would be tearing this forest apart. Gimli snorted and leaned against his ax as he eyed her.

"One does not rush headlong into Fangorn without dire consequences, young lassie."

She wrinkled her nose at them all. Putting her fists on her hips, she glared at each of them in disbelief. "What is wrong with you all? Aragorn, you said they were followed—they could be in danger _right now."_

The Ranger sighed through his nose, his lips thinning as he eyed the forest's edge. "Aye, but they have been in danger the moment they left the Shire. Just as you have been in danger since you arrived." He glanced towards the sky. "The darkness of night will soon be upon us."

Lana made a sound of pure annoyed frustration. "Nightfall is still several hours away!" She threw up her hands.

"A few hours are not enough time to search for Merry and Pippin. They are nearly thirteen hours ahead of us." Aragorn gazed back at the trees.

They were tall, their branches and trunks dwarfed only by the giant _mallorn_ trees of Lothlórien. The forest was so dense that one could hardly see beyond the thick foliage. It ran like a screen obscuring even the keenest of eyes. Shadows shifted under the leaves, but Lana wasn't paying attention to the forest.

"We cannot risk entering Fangorn before nightfall," Aragorn told her. He turned to Gimli and Legolas. "We will set up camp away from the forest's edge and take some much needed rest before we set out at dawn."

There was no argument from Legolas or Gimli on the matter. Though each was eager to find the hobbits, they knew Fangorn's reputation. It was a dangerous forest.

Lana's mouth dropped open. Shocked and angry she felt like throttling Aragorn. Her hands curled into fists reflexively. With a snap, she shut her mouth and ground her teeth so she would not start a shouting match. She eyed Aragorn as he moved some yards away from both the forest and the pile of burning uruks.

The man unshouldered his weapons and small pack then sat on his spread cloak on the ground. Above him, the sun was still shining brightly and white clouds chased each other indolently over his head. The pastoral scene was so at odds with the last seventy-two hours that Lana couldn't make sense of it at all. They were going to just _sit here_ while Merry and Pippin could be fighting for their lives just beyond the edge of the forest?

They had camped in woods before, so what was the big deal now? She sent a sour glance at the trees trying to discern what could halt three warriors in their tracks. There was nothing. Setting her jaw she closed in on the Ranger.

"Aragorn, I don't—"

"The matter is closed. Eat or take some rest," he said inflexibly.

Lana exhaled in a huff that sounded almost like a hiss. Angry and thoroughly exasperated with all these men she squeezed her fists tightly. Her nails bit into her palms. Eyes narrowed like a cat's she scowled at him.

"I'll take watch instead," she spat, surprising Aragorn with her asperity.

He watched as she moved away in long stiff strides before stopping some fifty odd yards away. She faced the open plains, keeping her back to the men.

Gimli eyed the stewing woman and knew better than to say anything. If his mother had taught him one thing, it was to never exasperate a female of any race. His father had been slow to learn this, according to his mother.

With a heavy sigh, he sat by Aragorn. Unnerved he looked back at the trees. Branches shifted and leaves susurrated like many thousands of snakes. The idea that the wood was actually _hissing_ at them did not sit well with the dwarf. It made him highly nervous to sit on the forest's doorstep.

Legolas had not moved from the wood's edge. He was aware of the forest's anger. It was like a wounded creature backed into a corner. It threatened all who came near it. Legolas was no stranger to suffering forests. His own wood was sick with a malaise that the Dark Lord cast over it. Only in those parts where his people could cleanse it was the forest healthy.

Shoving the painful memories aside, he studied the trees before him. These were wild woods; untamed by man or elf. Curiosity burned within him.

He was so enthralled by the trees he nearly missed Lana's argument with Aragorn—nearly. One part of his mind had been tuned to her. But the trees fascinated him as they would any wood elf. At last, and with great reluctance he tore himself away from their presence. He dared to approach the angry mortal woman.

The man and dwarf eyed his trajectory uneasily. Lana was in a foul mood and it was a brave warrior that would even think of confronting her. Aragorn almost intervened but decided that if anyone could calm Lana and make her understand, it would be Legolas. He just hoped the elven prince would come out of that conversation with his ears intact.

o0o

For once Lana knew Legolas was standing beside her. While she had not heard his approach, she knew he was there just the same. She knew he would come—how she knew didn't matter right now. It was Legolas after all. He was always _there_.

_Whether I want him or not!_

Her muscles stiffened tensely. The elf stood there at her shoulder without a word. His pale hair and cloak drifted around him in a cool breeze. It was several minutes before he spoke.

"I know that you are angry. I can feel the emotion clearly," he said, glancing out of the corner of his eye at her. "I understand your anger, as well as your determination."

Lana whirled on him. "Oh do you?" Her tone dripped with sarcasm. "Then why was I the only one to speak up, _hmm?"_

"Because I understand why Aragorn has chosen for us to rest here this night," Legolas told her calmly.

If anything, his serenity irritated her even more. Her blue eyes flashed with a fire. Were she a cat she would have been puffed all over with ears laid back.

"Oh yes, a very pleasant place too. Sleeping on the very ground that our enemies _died_ on," she hissed. "This place still reeks of burning flesh." Stepping closer she stared right into the elf's eyes. "Aragorn has chosen a brilliant place for us to spend the night."

Beneath her fury, Legolas sensed her anxiety, frustration, and sorrow. All this anger was just a front.

"If we could just go after them," she murmured, thinking aloud. "We could make good time. We could sleep beneath the trees and—"

"The forest is not safe at night," Legolas interrupted. "While Fangorn fascinates even me, it is unwise to enter when night approaches." He glanced behind him at the forest, listening, watching—sensing. He felt Lana's heated gaze upon him, but it was cooling.

"This forest is filled with anger and hurt. It has not known peace for some time."

"I don't understand," she said shaking her head, though with lessening fury.

Legolas turned back to see her face scrunched into a look of frustrated puzzlement.

"Nor will you, Cairnmel, until you have walked beneath the trees and have seen and felt it for yourself. You are not of this world, and although you have been here now for some months, you still do not know or understand all the dangers."

Lana frowned, eyes studying the forest. Legolas was right of course. She knew next to nothing about this world. Already the terrors she had met would have been deemed unreal in her world. Who knew? Perhaps this forest was like the ones in the old fairy tales. Maybe the trees came to life and grabbed at unwary travelers.

She did not realize how close to the truth she was with that one. Legolas' hand on her shoulder brought her from her thoughts.

"Keep watch until sundown, and then I shall take over for you."

Lana nodded mutely, appreciating that he was willing to let her spend some time alone with her thoughts. She watched as he moved away to stand by the tree line again, his mind once more absorbed by the woods.

Strangely, that same feeling of loss she had felt at breakfast pricked at her heart again. It made no sense since she truly wanted space. Gritting her teeth she snorted at herself. Clearly she didn't know what she wanted.

Crossing her arms, Lana turned back to her self-appointed task. As she stared out over the rolling plains she thought long about the journey she found herself on. She stood guard until Legolas came to relieve her.

o0o

With a jolt, Lana's eyes flew open. All she could see was the night sky. Her heart was in her throat practically choking her. Apprehensively she looked around trying to figure out where she was. She nearly screamed when a dark-haired man wearing dark clothes crouched beside her.

"Ah!...Aragorn," she exhaled explosively. She recognized him in the pale moonlight, but for a moment her mind had jumped to old memories.

She sat up and put a hand over her racing heart. Realizing that she must have fallen asleep the moment she laid down, she forced herself to calm. There was nothing to be afraid of.

"Are you well?" Aragorn inquired softly.

She looked into his clear gray eyes that shone with deep concern. "I…yes—yeah I'm fine," she stuttered. "Just a bad dream."

She lifted her gaze and Aragorn followed it. His eyes came to rest on Legolas who stood on the edge of their small camp. The fair elf had turned to look at the woman. Doubtless he heard her awaken from her latest dream. Concern from this discovery was evident on his features.

Legolas and Lana watched each other for a moment before the elf regretfully turned back to the land so that he could continue his duty. Lana exhaled deeply, her shoulders sagging. She looked back at Aragorn.

"Are you certain that you are well?" He asked again, brushing his unruly hair back from his eyes.

She nodded, licking her lips. "Yeah, I'm just fine. I'm sorry that I disturbed you." She ran a hand through her own hair, shaking it out.

"I was not sleeping," he told her simply.

After squeezing her shoulder, he rose to return to where he had laid out his cloak. She watched as he stretched out on his back and gazed at the stars overhead. Gimli was sound asleep. She didn't need to look at him to know it either. His snoring could awaken the dead.

Lana grimaced at that thought. She prayed that the hobbits were safe, but her heart was beginning to lose hope again. Merry and Pippin were now well over twenty-four hours ahead of them. They could have caught up with them by now. She was sure of it! The thought of them stuck alone in the forest was less than comforting, but there was nothing she could for them do now, except hope and pray.

Heaving a full sigh she laid back down on her side and stared out over the plains. The weight of her dreams combined with her concern for Merry and Pippin was like an albatross around her neck. Thankfully most of her dream was already forgotten. Her quick mind turned now to an old poem she had been forced to study in grade school. The one about sailing and the albatross.

_Alone, alone, all, all alone,_

_Alone on a wide wide sea!_

_And never a saint took pity on_

_My soul in agony._

_The many men, so beautiful!_

_And they all dead did lie:_

_And a thousand thousand slimy things_

_Lived on; and so did I._

She frowned. She never much liked that poem—_The Rime of the Ancient Mariner_. It was grim. With a grimace, she flipped through memories of home. She remembered her early childhood and her elementary school in Ocean Beach, California. There had been dolphins painted on her classroom walls. They had been close to the ocean—close enough that they could hear it during recess. Lana let her eyes relax as her mind drifted like the mariner through her imaginings and memories.

Staring out over the plains the soft light of the moon cast an eerie bluish glow. When the wind blew it caused the grasses to shift, reminding Lana of water. She pretended that the wavering grasses was the rippling surface of the ocean at Pacific Beach.

That had been one of her favorite beaches in all of Southern California. The sand was soft and there were many excellent spots for surfing. And it was a long beach so it didn't get as crowded as some others. In certain places, the land jetted out into the water and she used to walk to the very edge and just stare with a strange longing out over the glassy blue surface.

The ocean always had that affect on her. Ever since she was a small child she wanted to set sail and travel the world by boat—chasing the sunset to new lands. She felt happiest when out on the water. She remembered how a neighbor had taught her and Aidan how to sail, and long lazy summer days where they baked in the sun for hours as they surfed the waves with kids and hippies.

She smiled at the many good memories.

"Does something amuse you, Cairnmel?"

Lana blinked and glanced up to see Legolas standing beside her. This time, she had not been aware of his approach. Her eyes met his as he looked down at her with gentle humor. She had been smiling as she remembered P.B. and the blasted elf had caught her!

The smile on her lips faded as she looked back over the plains. The 'ocean' had reverted back to grass. Her chest deflated as she let her idle dreaming go. Gazing up at the sky, she noticed that the moon was much higher and further than it had been.

How long had she been woolgathering?

"Cairnmel?" Legolas asked rather concerned when she didn't answer right away.

She had seemed in high spirits while she gazed over the plains, but now…now she seemed despondent. Slowly she sat up, grimacing. Her body was sore from running and made this clearly known.

"I was only thinking about home." She stretched a little trying to placate her muscles.

Legolas crouched beside her then gestured toward the ground questioningly. Lana nodded when she realized he was silently asking permission to join her.

She glanced away to see that Aragorn was now standing watch at the edge of the camp. Her eyes returned to the elf as he sat down gracefully, and then drew one knee towards his chest. The other leg was positioned carelessly before him. She mentally shook her head at how he even made this casual pose seem elegant.

_Elves._

"A good memory?"

She nodded absentmindedly thinking. "Yeah. The grass moving in the wind and moonlight reminded me of water. I was thinking about one of my favorite beaches from home."

Part of Lana wondered if she should share this memory with Legolas. She didn't know what could trigger this 'sea-longing' that elves were prone to getting. She still wasn't even too sure what it was exactly, but she didn't want to take chances.

Legolas was regarding her intently, and she wondered if he was reading her emotions. He seemed to be getting better at that. Part of her was annoyed by this.

He did, in fact, sense sadness from her, and a bit of nervousness. Both were lessening now, and he assumed the sorrow was from being separated from her home, and the anxiety from his startling her.

"We do not have any large bodies of water in Mirkwood. Only rivers and streams," he chatted. "The Forest River runs through the heart of Mirkwood, right past the King's Cavern Halls. There is the Enchanted River, where I spent much of my youth training on its banks. The great spiders live near its waters.

Lana instantly wrinkled her nose. "Spiders?" She asked dubiously.

"Aye. Large and dark they are. Fierce are their hearts, but they are no match for elven bows or blades."

Confused, she cocked her head frowning. "How big are these spiders? Why don't you just step on them?"

Legolas' brows rose. "Step on them? They are too large for that. These spiders are as large as horses—and some even larger."

"What? Spiders the size of a horse?" Lana's face was agog with unsuppressed disgust.

Legolas tilted his head. "Do you not like spiders?"

She shut her mouth and made a face that was a mix between revulsion and deep consideration. "Well, I would say that on the whole I'm pretty indifferent to them either way. I don't really care as long as they are _outside_. I found a big hairy one in my hiking boot once—scared the shit out of me—but I didn't flip out _completely_." She was rather proud about that.

Legolas was hard pressed not to laugh at the expression on her face.

"But _giant_-giant spiders? _Horse_-sized spiders? No, thank you!"

Legolas chuckled softly. "If you ever visit Mirkwood, I will be sure to steer you clear of the spiders."

"Gee, thanks," she spoke sarcastically, resting her chin in her palm.

Legolas found laughter tickling his throat again. Lana's dry humor was something he truly found enjoyable. When they laughed together it made the quest seem less daunting.

The thought of showing her Mirkwood one day was an appealing one. He turned the idea over in his mind considering it. He was surprised to find that he desired this very much. It would be gratifying to see her marvel at his home, as he knew she would. Lana could be so impressionable—but in the best of ways. Provided that she wasn't trying to hide her emotions.

Despite opening herself up to him, she still seemed intent on concealing things from him. Not that he minded a challenge, but he preferred her free and unrestrained by dark thoughts. She was lovely when she smiled.

Legolas exhaled lightly, his thoughts returning to water. "I have been to Esgaroth—the Long Lake. It sits outside our borders, but I have never seen a larger body of water than that." Suddenly wistful he asked, "Can you tell me about the sea? I have heard it is magnificent, with waves of white foam that reach for the sky."

Lana shifted, and the elf detected an abrupt change her mood again. "Well…it is, as you say, magnificent. It…it really defies description," she said, trying to dodge his question.

He gazed at her intently, but she wouldn't look at him. He frowned as he saw her lips thin. Something was wrong, but he couldn't pinpoint what bothered her now.

_"Man prestadh?" What troubles you?_

Lana frowned more deeply. She mentally cursed his intuition. Sometimes it was really too much. That combined with his damned inquisitiveness—it got under her skin at times.

"Cairnmel?"

Closing her eyes, she grit her teeth. Then she just went for it. "I don't like it when you talk about the sea," she blurted honestly.

The agitation that emanated from her puzzled the elf. "Why does it trouble you so? It is no different than if we talk about _ithil_ or the _elaneth_." _Moon and stars._

Lana pursed her lips and dropped his gaze.

_"Pedo an nin._ Your reluctance to speak causes me to worry." _Speak to me._

_Dammit Legolas! Don't guilt trip me!_ She mentally groused, but then she sighed. Forcing her gaze to his, she saw his luminous eyes shining with concern. Despite herself she wanted to soothe his worries away. It wasn't right that he should feel burdened by her when there were more important things to consider.

"When you talk about the sea it…" she halted, still unsure of how this would sound to him. "It makes me think that…well, you know…" she shrugged helplessly.

Understanding dawned sharply on the elf. And it caused him to frown. "You are afraid that I will sail over the ocean with my people and leave you," he realized aloud.

It made his heart ache that she was worried over such a thing. Yet it also warmed it as well. It was an odd feeling—contradictory. And it puzzled him.

"And the others," Lana added quickly capturing his attention again. "You and Aragorn are such good friends—and even Gimli is warming up to you. We all would be lost without you," she finished rather softly.

Legolas smiled gently even as her cheeks colored. Soothingly, he took her hand nearest him and held it in both of his. He knew that she felt fragile when it came to losing people she held dear. She had already lost so much: her home, her family, and friends. Her former lover had left her when she returned scarred and broken from war and prison. How could he possibly fault her for her fear of losing him?

Lowering his voice, he spoke tenderly. "I will not leave the others or you. It is not my time to leave, Cairnmel. My heart is not yet ready to sail from these shores."

Lana did not seem relieved. If anything she looked at him as if he might suddenly become afflicted with the longing any moment. He smiled gently at her.

_"Estel nin,"_ he said comfortingly. _Trust me._

His thumb rubbed the back of her hand while he cupped her cheek with the other. Peering into her face, he waited patiently until she gave in and nodded. He could sense that she was still conflicted though he could not know that many things—not just his ultimate departure, caused it. He stroked his thumb across her cheek reassuringly and then drew back a respectable distance.

Her skin tingled from where he touched it, and Lana shifted hugging her knees to her chest. They sat in silence for a few moments, staring out over the plains before Legolas spoke.

"You dreamt again." The statement was filled with soft concern.

Lana glanced sideways at him. "Yeah, but it's already been forgotten."

_"Maer,"_ he replied, pleased to hear this. _Good._

Silence fell again, each of them listening to the night. Then Legolas shifted looking north. "A storm is coming; thunder and rain," he remarked.

Lana glanced up in surprise. "But there's not a cloud in the sky," she frowned searching for evidence of his conjecture. The sky was completely clear. She gave Legolas a baffled look.

"It is in the distance, but I feel its presence," he stated, still looking north intently.

Quite unexpectedly Lana laughed. Surprised Legolas turned at the sound. His brows rose. "Have I said something amusing?"

She chuckled again at his expression. "No."

"Then why do you laugh at me?" Legolas had the sneaking suspicion that he was on the end of some kind of joke.

"I'm not laughing _at_ you," Lana said smiling. "I was just thinking that if you are, in fact, right about the weather than you would be a very successful meteorologist back in my world."

The elf's brows furrowed even more. "Meteor-meteorol—" He shook his head frustrated by the word.

Lana flapped a hand waving off his question before he could ask it. There wasn't a chance that she was going to explain the science of weather tonight. He would have too many damn questions.

Lowering her head, she rested her chin on her knees. The smile on her lips faded away as her thoughts turned once more to home. She missed it so much! She missed her co-workers, her friends, and family—she especially missed her cat and her brother. In her mind, she could still see them so clearly, but memory was fallible. How long before their images faded from her mind?

She wondered what her brother was doing right this moment. _Aidan. I'm thinking of you. Do you feel me? I love you…_

"You should sleep," Legolas told her, disrupting her thoughts. He sensed that her deep sadness had returned, and he hoped that rest would allay her of it for the time being. "We do not know what the morrow will bring."

Stretching out her legs again, Lana winced. "I'm sure tomorrow will be more riding and…hey," she frowned noticing something missing. "Where are the horses?" She glanced about and even turned to look behind her.

"They have gone." The elf replied evenly.

Lana's eyes went wide. "What do you mean they've _gone?_ Gone where? Are they going to come back?"

While the idea of riding was unpleasant, the thought of more running was even worse.

_"Ú-istan,"_ Legolas told her frankly. _I know not. _

"When did they leave? And how? Why?" She couldn't stop the questions tumbling from her mouth.

In an effort to calm her, Legolas gently covered one of her hands again. She marveled at how serene he could be in a situation like this.

"There was an old man dressed in long robes walking in the woods. The horses did not like his presence and they ran off over the plains. We could not stop them from fleeing."

"An old man?" Lana wrinkled her nose skeptically. "How did an old man appear out of nowhere?"

_"Ú-istan._ He did not stay long. As quickly as he appeared, he was gone—back into the forest."

"Well this is just peachy," Lana groused.

A faint rumbling reached their ears and Lana looked up to see thunderclouds rolling in from the north. She shook her head in suspended belief. The damn elf had been right!

"Well, Theodore-fucking-Roosevelt! What else is going to happen tonight? First, we've lost the hobbits, then we find out they might be alive, but we can't be sure. Then we lose the horses, which we're supposed to return, and no one thought to tell me. And now it's going to rain!"

Legolas cocked his head, observing her amenably during the tirade. "The rain will refresh us as well as the parched earth," he said simply.

Lana stared at him, not knowing what to think or say. His optimism never ceased to amaze. She let out an amused chuckle and half-smiled at him. "Well, I _have_ been wanting a bath."

Legolas grinned back. "The Valar have decided to grace you with one." His smile faded, as he took on a more serious note. "Now please, will you not rest?"

Lana lifted a brow at him. "Why do I have this feeling that you'll just keep nagging me until I do?"

Legolas chuckled softly. Then he shifted, his face adopting that serious look again. He sat cross-legged and then grasping his cloak, he pushed it behind his shoulders and then opened his arms towards her.

Lana's eyes widened. "What? You don't expect me to…?"

"You wound me with your hesitation, _hiril nín._ I will wager that I am far more comfortable than the hard ground." He teased with a soft smile. _"Tolo._ I will protect you from the coming rain and any foul dreams that would dare torment you." _Come_.

Lana felt her cheeks grow warm at the sight of his smile, and at the idea of him holding her while she slept. Her hesitation and most of all her apprehension surprised her. She was not a prude by any means, but then…

"Are, _er_, are you _sure?"_ She stammered, annoyed that she suddenly couldn't speak straight. "I mean, I don't want to trouble you. I might start snoring or drooling or something."

If she was embarrassed before, now she wanted to hide under a rock. _Snore? Drool? Really Lana?!_

Legolas lifted a brow, a smile tugging on his lips. "The rain will wash away any such things as that, and I doubt that you could snore as loud as Master Gimli does. The noises he makes rivals thunder in the heavens."

Almost as if to prove his point, Gimli snored even louder, and then rolled over in his sleep. Just at that moment, thunder growled in the distance.

Lana laughed out loud, and the unexpected nervousness lifted a bit. "You're right; no one can snore as loud as Gimli."

Legolas nodded stoutly. "Then it is settled. You cannot possibly be any trouble." He opened his arms wider, beckoning her to join him.

Lana pressed her lips together and swallowed hard. Her heart started to pound the closer she crept toward him. She hesitated when she was directly in front of him, and was silent and still for two heartbeats.

"Do I still frighten you?" Legolas asked quietly, and Lana winced at the hurt that colored his tone.

She shook her head quickly and looked earnestly into his eyes. "No. No…you don't frighten me…it's just…It's been a long time since…" she stopped herself, not wanting the words to come out wrong. _It's been a long time since I've been in a man's arms,_ is what she nearly said.

It had been her choice in the end. After everything that she had been through, she felt…too _dirty_ to be with anyone. It was ridiculous thought, and illogical, but it was there nonetheless. Speciously she had believed that her boyfriend had left her because she had been "tainted." But that was utterly false. She knew it, but the heart doesn't always agree with the mind. To protect herself she had chosen to keep her distance from relationships of an intimate nature.

Lana did not count the brief embraces between her and Legolas over the last few days. They had been in comfort. And so was this, she realized. Legolas had never done anything that could lead her to believe he would overstep propriety. Accepting this logical conclusion she smiled and moved forward. She pressed her cheek against his tunic and sighed softly.

The cloth was warm from his body and it was soft against her skin. He smelled of the earth and trees…pine trees, she thought with a smile. And leather from his quiver, and something else she couldn't quiet identify. It was just simply…_him_.

"It's been a very long time since I had such a good friend," she murmured, glancing up at him.

Legolas' smile widened as joy welled up like a spring within him. "You shall always have my friendship, as well as my kindness and consideration," he told her warmly.

He drew Lana closer, gently pulling her legs over his thighs so that she was practically sitting in his lap. He was content when she did not pull away. Instead, she settled more firmly against him. The hesitation and anxiety he had detected from her were gone, evaporated like a desert mist. Delectation took its place soothing them both. Drawing his cloak forward, he covered them.

Lana snuggled closer, smiling. Under her ear, she heard the steady beating of his heart. The sound at once brought great contentment and tears to her eyes. It had been _so_ long since she had been simply held…or touched at all. She had not realized how much she missed physical contact.

Once a long time ago, she had imaged herself getting married. In a distant future, of course, but after everything that happened…it was like that choice was snatched from her. Again she knew this was nonsense, but she couldn't shake the feeling. It plagued her unconscious thoughts and it got to the point where without even realizing it she distanced herself from others.

While her family had always been there for her, she found that they couldn't truly help. Her twin had meant more to her than anyone else…he had been a great source of support and comfort for her, but he was her brother. It was not the same as having a friend of the heart, soul, and body. A lover.

She mentally jolted at the thought. _Legolas…as a lover?_ Surprised by this idea, she toyed with it curiously, but quickly set it aside as if it was too expensive to handle. She did this for numerous reasons: Firstly, she wasn't ready any for such relationship. Why had it even crossed her mind? Also, she was certain he could read her thoughts as well as her emotions. The last thing she wanted was for him to divine that idea. And thirdly, she wasn't even certain elves and humans could mix in that way. She swallowed hard.

Peeking up at him, it appeared that he was unaware of her thoughts now. She relaxed and smiled gently.

_"Hannon le, Aureos."_

Legolas squeezed her gently as he held her fondly against him. He rested his chin upon her head, feeling suddenly more content than he had in a long while. Her words soothed his heart and invigorated his soul. It amazed him how this mortal woman had come to mean so much in such a short amount of time. Yet he did not stop to wonder why he felt the way he did. With the darkness growing around them his elven soul eagerly latched on to any semblance of peace and goodness.

The rumbling thunder drew closer with each passing minute. It was not long before dark clouds blotted out the moon and stars. When the rain came, it fell gently at first—a warm wet serein that was refreshing. But it grew stronger.

Aragorn crouched on the ground watching the lightening. Few would dare to approach them in a storm like this.

Gimli snored away until the rain began to fall into his nose and open mouth. "What is this?" He grumbled, sitting up. He held out his hand and felt water drip on to his dry palm.

"It's called rain, Gimli," Lana called cheekily. "It falls from the sky."

The dwarf turned toward her voice. He blinked. He was rather surprised to see her curled up against the wood elf.

_"Humph!_ I know what rain is, but why does it have to fall on us? I was content in my slumber and now it has disturbed me."

Lana laughed lightly as Legolas pulled his hood over his head. Aragorn did the same, and Gimli, still grumbling, followed suit. The lighting flashed with increased frequency dazzling their eyes. The thunder made Lana's heart race.

Though she was a grown adult, she still got the same spooked feeling she would get as a child during a thunderstorm. She couldn't say why it lingered, but everyone was entitled to at least one irrational and silly fear, right?

She snuggled closer against Legolas who pulled his cloak tightly around them both. But the rain fell hard and before long the four companions were soaked through.

A bolt of lightening split the sky directly above them and thunder crashed in a deafening noise. Lana physically jumped and closed her eyes. Legolas' soft amusement made her smile despite herself. She felt the elf hold her closer.

Just as quickly as the storm arrived, it moved on. The cool earth steamed a bit from the warm rain. Even the air felt milder than it had earlier. Soon the clouds were gone, retreating to the south, and the heavens glittered brightly once more.

"Warmer weather is arriving," Legolas told Lana. "Spring is coming."

Lana nodded absently and looked up at him. The elf was drenched; his blond hair was a darker shade of pale. For once it was not perfectly in place. She smiled lazily at his appearance. Then she yawned feeling suddenly tired.

Legolas said nothing, but just smiled in return. He watched as Lana's eyes drifted closed. She fought sleep for a short while, but finally her body won out. As she relaxed Legolas continued to observe her: how her chest rose and fell in gentle slumber, and how soft her face looked in repose.

The rain and wind cleared away the scent of death that had been lingering in the air. Now the world smelled of earth and sweet grass. Eventually the bodies would decompose and become part of the earth. The land would heal and not a scar would remain. The cycles of nature were something the elves never wearied of. Legolas surveyed the land with his keen eyes for a moment.

Then he glanced back down at Lana nestled against his shoulder. Gingerly, he pushed back his cloak so the warmer air could begin to dry them. Aragorn had resumed watch. His gaze followed the retreating lightening. Gimli too had returned to his slumber.

Not desiring to rest, Legolas kept watch from where he sat. Yet instead of gazing out over the land as one on watch should do, his eyes kept finding their way back to the mortal woman who slept peacefully in his arms.

He was mesmerized by the way her body rose and fell with each breath. Her small pert nose and soft cheekbones that were so unelf-like. But it only made her all the more alluring. He loved her slender brows that arched like wings over her eyes. They were so expressive and she used them to great affect when she spoke.

The sweep of her eyelashes sealed her eyes from view. He never noticed until now just how long her lashes were. Unlike her brows and her golden blond hair, her lashes were dark. They grew lighter at the roots before turning almost black at the tips.

Over and over he ran his eyes across her face, memorizing each and every feature, from the curve of her chin to the little freckle just above her lip on the right side. Her long hair was unbound and it flowed over his arm. In the night it looked more silver than gold, though it was still much darker than his own.

He could not seem to tear his eyes away from her, so he did not attempt to. He listened to the soft contented sounds she made each time she moved closer to him. Through the night the Prince of Mirkwood watched over the mortal woman from another world, singing softly to her in his own tongue about his homeland until the world began to lighten once more.

* * *

_Thoughts? Comments? More? _

_As always, thanks for reading. _


	22. Miraculous To Say

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.**

I make no claims on Tolkien's works. I also give credit to Cormak3032.

* * *

**Chapter 21: Miraculous To Say**

A gentle voice was singing far away. The words sounded familiar, but it took several attempts to understand them and even then Lana did not fully comprehend them. Someone was touching her hair, running their fingers through the strands as they sang a tune she had never heard before.

She felt warm and safe: two things she hadn't known in very a long time. Slowly her eyes peeked open. The voice stopped singing and the fingers no longer stroked her hair. She felt an immediate loss at their absence. A faint sleepy groan escaped her throat. Her sleep-blurred vision first noted the long straight tendrils of blond hair dangling beside her face. She smiled, recalling that she was in Legolas' arms. She snuggled her cheek closer to his chest, basking in the feelings of security and peace.

But the feeling did not last long. Thoughts of Merry and Pippin entered her mind, which brought her to full awareness. When she tried to sit up, she found herself trapped by the strong arm draped around her. She couldn't move. She also realized that her clothes were still damp and the cool morning air caused her to shiver.

"I had hoped the warmer air would dry us, but alas it was not so." The elf gently pulled his cloak over them both, though it was still damp as well.

Lana glanced up and into Legolas' eyes. The edges of his lips curled into a smile. "It will be warmer today," he told her, glancing east.

It was still very dark, but dawn was just beginning to creep on the line of the horizon.

"Are you hungry, Cairnmel?"

"If it's _lembas_ for breakfast, then no, I'm not," she muttered sleepily.

Legolas chuckled softly and released her. He watched in bemusement as she sat beside him, stretching and making small noises.

_"Lostannech maer?" You slept well?_

Lana smiled shyly and tucked her hair behind her ear. "Yes, thank you."

She then ran her fingers through the still slightly damp tresses, shaking it out. Legolas watched as the heavy hair was braided back by her deft fingers. He thought it a shame that she wore it bound most of the time, but he understood its practicality.

During the night, he had discovered that her hair though naturally curly was quite soft. Softer than he would have thought mortal hair could be. The weight of it caused most of the curls to fall into gentle waves and his fingers combed through them with ease. Lana glanced up at him as she tied off her braid.

The rain had made her feel refreshed and not quite so dirty, but she looked at Legolas with a small frown. The elf's clothing was still damp, but his hair, which had been unruly after the rain shower was now perfectly back in place.

Legolas sensed her confusion and opened his mouth to ask her what troubled her when she silenced him by speaking first. "When are we going to go after the hobbits?" She asked glancing at the forest behind her.

One Legolas' dark brows rose. "You are anxious to leave so soon?" He knew by now that Lana was not one to wake bright eyed with the dawn.

She nodded and reached for her pack. Unzipping it she grabbed a leaf of _lembas_. Breaking the bread in half, she gave one piece to Legolas, who nodded in thanks. Another piece she shoved into her mouth as she refolded the leaf packaging and closed her backpack. Biting off a smaller morsel she swallowed and held her bread in one hand.

"Yes, I'm very anxious to leave." She felt guilty for cuddling up to Legolas all night while her poor friends were in a dangerous place and being hunted by the enemy.

"Good, because we are to depart in a few moments time."

Legolas and Lana turned to see Aragorn standing a few feet in front of them, gathering up his gear. The Ranger's hair was quite wavy due to the damp air.

The elf had heard the man's approach, but not Lana. Suddenly feeling that she was sitting a little too close to Legolas, she inched away and then looked up at Aragorn who was gazing at her questioningly. She felt her cheeks flush and was grateful it wasn't full light yet.

Aragorn's interest faded quickly, however, and he suddenly appeared tired. "They are many hours ahead of us. We will need to keep a sharp eye for tracks and clues as to the direction they traveled in. Let us hope home the rain did not wash away their trail. Remain close. The forest is dangerous." He looked pointedly at Lana. However, she nodded demurely, causing him to lift a brow as her passive acquiescence.

"When shall we leave, _mellon nín?"_ Legolas asked.

"Just as soon as I awaken Gimli," Aragorn said, his lips twitching into a smile.

o0o

Upon entering Fangorn, Lana was unprepared for overload on all her senses. She felt instantly alert as if she had been given some sort of stimulate. Hazily she wondered if this what it was like to be an elf, for everything seemed so much clearer—sharper, and she felt more alert.

There were strange smells that made her nose crinkle, and constant noises from dripping water to shifting leaves, and most unnatural—deep groaning creaking sounds; sounds she would have associated with a large animal like an elephant—or a whale. But even more surprising, there were _no animals._

She swallowed, feeling watched nonetheless. A vicious and aggressive force bombarded them, and Lana now fully understood why Aragorn didn't want to be caught in here after dark. Honestly, she was ready to leave _now_.

Everything made her jumpy and she stuck close to her companions. And she wasn't the only one. Gimli was also on edge and he kept a tight grip on his largest ax. She walked close to his side knowing that if any of these ominous trees decided to grab her, he was her best bet for defense.

The borders of the forest were dense due to a heavy growth of ferns, shrubs, and other plants that liked the shade. Some had thorns on them, and each of them was covered in small scratches and burrs by the time they pushed through. Deeper inside the forest there was a bit more breathing space, but there was also a sense that the wood was leading them to where _it_ wanted them to go.

Aragorn led the way, following the tracks laid by the hobbits and their pursuer. Oddly though, the tracks would sometimes go a way that was no longer passable. They would then halt as the Ranger searched for a way around that led back to where the tracks should be.

During all this Lana kept thinking about all the Grimm fairytales she had read as a child; not the nice Disney versions. Her parents were both of European decent and they had given her and her brother the real books. In fact, one summer when they had been traveling through Germany they had bought them a gorgeous and very old leather bound book with hand painted pictures of all the Grimm stories.

Neither she nor Aidan knew German, but they had been young enough at the time to learn quickly. All the German she knew now was from those books. Not that words like "witch," "princess" or "gingerbread" were actually handy in daily conversations.

A groan sounded next her and she jumped back staring at a tree whose branches seemed to be reaching for her.

_That's ridiculous. You're psyching yourself out._ She admonished, but she could have sworn that she saw the limbs slowly retreating as she glared at them. Shaking her head she sidled closer to Gimli who was doing his best to search for clues.

Legolas, however, seemed the calmest of the group. Lana could tell that he was concentrating very intently as if listening to some secret conversation. While she still didn't know very much about elven culture, she knew that he was a "wood" elf. Perhaps they talked to trees.

Gimli paused by a hedge with dark waxy leaves. A black substance coated some of the leaves. Lana looked over her shoulder.

"What is that?" She asked dubiously. Then much to her disgust, Gimli dabbed his fingers in the mystery goo, smelled it, and then _licked_ it.

_"Pttt!_ Orc blood," he said sourly.

Lana made a gagging face and took a step back from the dwarf. She knew of many tribal cultures that used the taste method to track animals, but she sincerely hoped that Gimli wasn't planning on doing that moving forward! It was disgusting, not to mention unsanitary.

_Not that we are living so pristinely now. But still…_

They moved on, Aragorn still tracking, sometimes backtracking. As they moved deeper into the forest the more paranoid Lana became. However, she kept her mouth shut and refused to complain. After all her grousing last night she wouldn't dare say a word no matter how freaked out she felt.

They hopped over roots and fallen branches winding this way and that. The men seemed to have no trouble bounding over the obstacles in their way, and for the most part, Lana was fairly light footed as well. But on the last one, she was not so fortunate.

The toe of her shoe slipped and caught in an upturned tree root. With a startled intake of air, she fell hard onto the ground. The wind was knocked out of her. And the sound of her _whoosh_ caused the others to halt and look back at her.

Gimli was closest and was at her side in an instant. Lana's face contorted into a painful grimace. Aragorn frowned as she gripped her ankle. They couldn't afford to be slowed down due to an injury, but they most assuredly couldn't leave her in Fangorn. It would be cruel and the man doubted Legolas would permit such a thing. Not that Aragorn would ever consider it. But the elf and the mortal woman had become good friends. It would aggravate Legolas to be separated from her. That much was clear.

"Are you alright, lass? That was a hard fall," Gimli put a gloved hand on her shoulder.

Lana wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, brushing away the dirt. "You don't have to tell me," she grumbled dryly, but then she gave the dwarf an apologetic glance. She didn't mean to be caustic, but her ankle hurt and to top it off she was quite embarrassed. She could feel her cheeks turning bright red. Ignoring the smarting that was shooting up her leg, she forced herself to stand and rotate her ankle.

"You are in pain," Legolas noted aloud. He frowned openly as worry nipped at his heart.

"I'll live," she informed them dryly as she tested her weight. "It's just a bit tender."

Her tone was clipped, but Legolas was not put off by it. Rather, he frowned all the more deeply. He did not approve of when Lana attempted to hide things from him. It was a lost cause because now he could almost always sense how she felt.

She moved forward with determination, refusing both Gimli's and Legolas' attempts to assist her. The elf internally sighed at her stubbornness, but he did not argue with her. However, he did keep an eye on her, watching as she took slow cautious steps. He was relieved when he noticed that her pain and discomfort began to diminish. She had not harmed herself so badly that she could not travel. Aragorn was also reassured when the limp in her walk lessened.

He turned back to the tracks and continued to lead the way. Picking up his pace, Legolas fell in step behind him scanning the forest, but keeping his ears tuned to Lana. Gimli and she walked side by side, although this time she was careful to watch her feet.

Suddenly Aragorn stopped. Kneeling, his hands skimmed over the forest floor. A deep frown creased his features as he touched the ground. "These are strange tracks," he murmured.

Legolas looked over the Ranger's shoulder then crouched beside him to inspect the trail more closely. They baffled him too. "Indeed. I do not know what could have made them," he said frowning and standing up.

The earth was imprinted with clear tracks, but they were not the light barefoot marks of the hobbits, nor the iron-clad shoes that the orcs wore. They were a mystery to everyone.

Lana studied them curiously noting the many toe-like features and the odd almost plant like marks. _Some kind of strange jungle shoes?_ But if they were shoes they were _enormous!_ The prints were at least fifteen inches in diameter.

"The air is so close in here," Gimli complained, pulling at his collar.

"This forest is old," Legolas told him. "Very old…"

Lana watched the elf as his eyes surveyed the trees. His tone became distant as his attention was once more caught up with the forest.

"Full of memory," he added softly. "And anger."

He swallowed hard glancing about quickly, like a startled deer. From deep in the forest and spreading quickly all around there came more of the deep groaning-creaking noises that they had been hearing off and on. But this time, it sounded more aggressive.

The travelers were instantly on alert, glancing up uneasily. Gimli hefted his ax in preparation for danger. Legolas was staring up at the canopy intently, then his eyes widened.

"The trees are speaking to each other!" He said in urgent excitement.

"Gimli!" Aragorn hissed. "Lower your ax!"

The dwarf blinked, but then lowered the weapon, trying to look as unthreatening as possible. Legolas turned towards him, his eyes sparkling with elven wisdom.

"They have feelings my friend," he glanced upwards again. "The elves began it, long ago. Waking up the trees. Teaching them to speak."

Lana listened to this in nothing short of dumbfounded awe. She wanted to know more, but words failed her.

"Talking trees," Gimli groused, taking the words right from her mouth. "What do trees have to talk about, hmm?" He leaned closer to Lana speaking conspiratorially, "Other than the consistency of squirrel droppings."

Legolas leveled an annoyed glare at the dwarf. He then turned and continued to follow Aragorn.

Lana chuckled, but it was soundless. She was still floored by the idea of talking trees—even though her imagination had been running wild with the very idea of sentient vegetation for hours. Feeling tense, she hunched her shoulders a little.

"Don't worry, lassie," Gimli told her comfortingly. "We will find the wee lads. Not even talking trees can stop us."

This time, Lana smiled genuinely at his words. They fell in step together. The pain in her ankle was nothing more than a dull annoying ache. When she did falter a little on the uneven ground she swore under her breath. Gimli made a glib jest at how odd her swear words were. She laughed, feeling lighter for the first time since entering the forest.

Legolas glanced back at them frowning. He watched the mortal woman and the dwarf walk and talk together, but try as he might, the elf could not understand why it troubled him so. He thinned his lips, annoyed with them and himself.

Allowing the feeling to bother him only a moment longer he forced his senses to pay attention to their surroundings. Suddenly, his body went rigid, the muscles in his jaw clenching as he sensed something the others did not. He sent Aragorn a keen look.

"Aragorn, _nad no ennas,"_ he said sharply and darted forward, eyes and ears seeking.

Gimli frowned not understanding the words. He glanced to Lana for a translation. "He said that there's something out there," she told him quietly.

"Of course there is," Gimli retorted, trying to stay light humored. "There are talking trees all around us."

Normally Gimli's jesting would have amused her, but not this time. Her eyes were glued to Legolas' form. She knew the elf's behaviors and expressions well enough to know that he was worried. Very worried.

And this made her concerned.

Aragorn drew closer to Legolas trying to pinpoint what he was sensing. _"Man cennich?"_ He whispered. _What do you see?_

"The white wizard approaches." The elf nodded his head to one side.

Lana froze at his words. The elf did not sound pleased and it made her worry double instantly. Who was this white wizard anyway?

"We must not let him speak. He will put a spell on us." Aragorn ordered.

Legolas gave a slight nod and smoothly grabbed an arrow to fit on his bowstring. Aragorn put his hand on his sword and drew it softly from its sheath, he sent Lana pointed look. Gimli tightened his grip on his double-headed ax.

Swallowing, Lana wrapped her fingers around the hilt of her elvish blade. Slowly she drew it out. Taking a deep breath, she forced her shaking arms to be firm. She did not know what to think. She only hoped that this wizard didn't unleash a barrage of orcs at them or change them into toads or something.

"We must be swift," Aragorn told them softly.

They held a moment then in unison they whirled about. In that same moment, a flash of blinding white light dazzled their eyes. Legolas let his arrow fly, but it was deflected with surprising ease. Gimli let out a roar as he chucked one of his throwing axes. This too was batted away as if it was no more than a child's toy. Both Aragorn's and Lana's swords turned bright red and sizzling hot. They dropped them instantly. Lana squinted to see if her palms had been scorched.

They were all disarmed and still the white light bore down on them.

"You are tracking the footsteps of two young hobbits," a deep voice from the light said.

"Where are they?" Aragorn demanded forcefully. He tried to shield his eyes from the light.

"They passed this way, the day before yesterday." The resonant voice told them. "They met someone they did not expect. Does that comfort you?"

"Who are you?" Aragorn called out. "Show yourself!"

Their hearts were pounding and each of them felt wholly unprepared. Lana swallowed and unconsciously moved closer to Legolas, hiding behind him.

_Is this it? Are we all going to die, killed by this glowing wizard?_

What happened next stunned them all. The light dimmed and a figure of a tall robed man came into focus. He was clothed in dazzling white and had a long white staff. His beard was neat and snow white as well. Familiar clear gray-blue eyes looked down upon them.

Aragorn's mouth was hanging open. Lowering his hand from his eyes, he took a hesitant step forward. "It cannot be," he whispered, shaking his head.

The others gasped as well. Gimli's brown eyes grew wide with disbelief. Legolas' were full of shock and instant remorse. He dropped to the ground kneeling in supplication. "Forgive me," he begged softly. "I mistook you for Saruman."

Gimli too found himself bowing before the majesty of the wizard before them.

Lana, however, stood transfixed. If anything, she looked like she had seen a ghost, and most likely had. Her brain stopped working completely, unable to comprehend the sight before her. Without thinking, she took a step backward.

"I am Saruman," the familiar voice said. "Rather Saruman as he should have been."

Aragorn shook his head in denial. "You fell…"

The kind humor in those blue eyes shifted into ones of seriousness.

"Through fire and water," he said, his mind going back. "From the lowest dungeon to the highest peak, I fought him; the balrog of Morgoth." He spat out the foul name of the fallen Vala. "Until at last I threw down my enemy and smote his ruin upon the mountainside. Darkness took me, and I strayed out of thought and time…the stars wheeled overhead, and every day was as long as a life age of the earth. But it was not the end." He said, his eyes distant.

"I felt life in me again." He continued firmly, focusing back on the Fellowship before him. "I have been sent back until my task is done."

Aragorn stepped forward, his heart swelling with joy and renewed hope. "Gandalf…" he whispered emotionally.

Lana sucked in a shaky breath.

"Gandalf?" The white wizard seemed puzzled by the name. Then recognition came into his eyes. "Yes. That is what they used to call me."

Aragorn nodded encouragingly.

"Gandalf the Grey. That was my name." He said sounding amused.

"Gandalf," Gimli said happily.

The wizard smirked as if privy to some private joke. "I am Gandalf the _White_," his smile faded away then. "And I have come back to you now at the turn of the tide."

Lana's back it the tree behind her and she stumbled slightly, causing everyone to turn and look at her. Her face was nearly as white as Gandalf's robes. He moved to her, not heeding the distress in her eyes.

"Do not fear, child." He said gently, and he touched her chin lifting it so he could see into her eyes. Without any logical explanation, Lana felt her body relax and all her fears were inexplicably replaced with light, hope, and joy. "This is no trick of your mind," he said gently.

And Lana let out a wobbly laugh. Tears collected in her eyes. "It really is _you_," she whispered.

Gandalf stood back leaning on his staff, smiling at her, bemused. Suddenly Lana launched herself forward and she hugged the wizard tightly.

"Gandalf!" She exclaimed, feeling ridiculously happy and not caring.

The trio behind them grinned at the sight of the mortal woman squeezing the life out of the wizard.

"Welcome back," she whispered so only the Gandalf could hear. She pulled away and suddenly put her hands on her hips, and looked him over. "You certainly took long enough, geez!" She huffed in false derision.

This caused everyone to laugh.

"One worries very little about time when beyond its borders," Gandalf said amusedly. "But rest assured, time is of the essence now. We must depart with all haste." He said turning to the others.

"But what about Merry and Pippin?" Lana inserted quickly.

"They are well; guarded by the one who is the lord, if you will, of this forest. No harm shall befall them."

Gathering up their fallen weapons, they turned to follow Gandalf who was now wrapped up in the very same kind of cloak that they themselves wore. Not missing a beat, Gandalf began to lead them back out of the forest.

"One stage of your journey is over, another begins," he said moving swiftly for an old man in long robes. "We must travel to Edoras with all speed."

Lana cocked her head. It felt wrong to leave the forest without the hobbits, but if Gandalf said they were safe then Lana let her guilt go. But she had hoped that perhaps now they might have a chance for real rest; maybe even settle down for a week or two. But that didn't seem to be the case at all.

All that non-existent time that Gandalf had experienced seem to make him in a hurry to catch up with it here.

"Edoras?" Gimli called. "That is no short distance!"

Lana paused in her tracks, not liking the sound of this at all. Legolas stepped up beside her, tearing his attention away from the trees. "What is it?" He prodded gently.

Lana watched as Gimli trailed behind Aragorn and Gandalf. Her lips were pressed together thinly. "We have no horses," she said turning to Legolas. "Am I the only one who remembers that?"

Legolas was about to reply, but Lana wasn't paying attention to him any longer. She moved ahead so she could hear what the others were saying.

"We have heard that things go ill with the king." Lana heard Aragorn say to the wizard.

"Yes, and he will not be so easily cured," Gandalf muttered.

"Then we have run all this way for nothing!" Gimli bellyached. "Only to leave those poor hobbits here in this horrid, dark, _dank_, _tree infested—"_

The trees made that deep knocking-groaning noise again, sounding very disgruntled. Gimli halted and looked about quickly.

"Eh, I mean charming! Quite charming…forest," he quickly put on a false smile.

Gandalf turned to the dwarf. "It was more than mere chance that brought Merry and Pippin to Fangorn. A great power has been sleeping here for many long years,"

Legolas lifted his eyes to the trees in wonder. Lana watched him intently. Such an innocent expression of awe was on his face that Lana could not help but feel a swell of affection and admiration. The elf was like an exquisite piece of art. She could gaze at him for hours without ever tiring. Such perfection was something the artists of her world longed to capture in stone, bronze, and in paintings. Yet they never _quite_ mastered it. Legolas was elegance personified. Gandalf's words jarred her from her observations.

"The coming of Merry and Pippin will be like the falling of small stones that start an avalanche in the mountains."

Gimli pursed his lips and was about to trudge on when his eyes fell upon Lana and Legolas. They were standing close together now—shoulder to shoulder. And the mortal woman was gazing intently at the elf with an expression…well, if he didn't know better he would have called it 'love.' But _that_ wasn't possible! Deep admiration maybe.

He shook his head and moved on.

"I know one thing you have not changed dear friend," Aragorn said to Gandalf, a smile tugging on his lips.

"Hmm?" The wizard noised.

"You still speak in riddles," Aragorn teased.

The two shared a short laugh. And then Gandalf looked out at the forest again.

"A thing is about to happen that has not happened since the _Eldar_ days." The wizard glanced about the woods. "The Ents are going to wake up—and find that they are _strong_."

"Strong?" Gimli echoed. "Oh, that's good." He gave a short laugh to cover his unease, glancing suspiciously at the trees.

"So you can stop your fretting, Master Dwarf," Gandalf said, shaking his staff admonishingly at him. "Merry and Pippin are quite safe," he called moving on.

Aragorn smirked and followed the wizard.

"In fact, they are safer than you are about to be!"

Gimli lowered his brows grumbling. Legolas laid a hand on the dwarf's shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. He smiled down at him then stepped ahead with Lana leaving Gimli to stare at their retreating forms.

"This new Gandalf is more grumpy than the old one!" He muttered to himself.

Trudging after his companions, he noticed something else. Lana and Legolas continued to walk close together. Legolas pointed out trees and other silly things that elves found remarkable. But what interested the dwarf was how Legolas' free hand found Lana's. His fingers threaded with hers as they walked together. Lana appeared quite at ease with this and she smiled frequently at the Mirkwood elf.

Gimli lifted a brow and rubbed his beard in thought. "Very interesting," he murmured to himself.

* * *

_Thoughts? _

_As always, thanks for reading! _


	23. An Uncomfortable Realization

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.**

I make no claims on Tolkien's works. I also give credit to Cormak3032.

* * *

**Chapter 22: An Uncomfortable Realization**

Lana had been a bit surprised when Legolas guided her along with him. He had been so keen on the forest as to forget everything else. But now he seemed intent on playing tour guide now that the danger had passed.

After comforting the grumbling Gimli, he pointed out this and that, noting the differences between this forest and others. He explained just how unusual Fangorn was compared to other woods of Middle Earth. It was ancient—a remnant of a once vast woodland that covered the earth from east to west. This was all that remained of that once primordial forest.

He told her of his desire to return here and walk beneath its boughs when the evil of the world had passed. There was so much to learn here, he said excitedly. The trees were guarded now, and for a good reason, but he hoped one day to coax them to speak. Lana smiled at this. It somehow seemed right that an elf should talk to trees.

All her worries and cares about the future drifted away while she walked with Legolas. There was something about his presence that put her at ease. She couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was. Maybe it was his gentle but enthusiastic voice, or the feel of his warm fingers as they entwined with hers.

Of one thing she was certain: she and Legolas had grown much closer than she thought possible. Now she welcomed his company and she realized that it would be painful to be separated from him. It was like discovering the sun after months of cloud and rain. You can live without blue skies, and even grow used to it. But when it clears and the crystalline vault of heaven is revealed spotless and blue you have to wonder how you could have called all those gray months "living."

Legolas was her Aureos—her golden light—and like a sunflower, she gravitated to him. Beyond all expectations, she had grown very fond of him. She didn't even want to think about one day possibly saying goodbye.

But Aidan's face shimmered in her mind's eye, along with her parents, her cat, and her friends. There was conflict deep in her heart. She still yearned to find a way home. _There just hasn't been time, _she told herself. And that was true. So why then did she feel guilty about it?

Ignoring her discordant feelings she went with Legolas back out into the bright sunshine of the afternoon. The light was painful after so much time spent in the shade. Lana was really missing her sunglasses now. They lay in their case still broken and packed away.

Frowning she gazed over the grassy plains. They had no transportation other than their feet. Somehow she couldn't see Gandalf running across the plains in his long robes. The image though was amusing and she hid her smile, lest Legolas catch it and call her out.

Gandalf caught her expression however and lifted a brow. She bit her lip then shrugged. He merely gave her a look that bordered on mischievous but then turned away, hiding his own amusement. Time to ease her worries.

He gave a long, loud whistle that echoed across the plains for miles.

There was silence for a moment. Then in the distance, a proud whinny echoed.

Lana's eyes grew wide upon seeing the perfection of galloping horseflesh. From over a ridge there came a large and graceful stallion of purest white. Behind him, not quite as fast, were Arod and Hasufel. Lana's lips broke into a wide smile upon seeing them.

Legolas stepped forward, shielding his eyes from the sun. "That is one of the _Mearas_ unless my eyes are cheated by some spell."

The horses came thundering towards them, slowing at the last moment. The sophisticated white stallion was bare of tack. He moved towards Gandalf, with ears pricked forward. His dark eyes gleamed with intelligence.

"Shadowfax," Gandalf greeted warmly. The stallion snorted and bobbed his head. "He is the lord of all horses," he told them, stroking the finely muscled neck. "And has been my friend through many dangers."

Lana stepped a bit closer, wanting to get a good look at this stallion. She knew her grandfather would be agog to see this animal. He used to breed thoroughbreds and race them. This creature looked like champion material. Shadowfax flicked an ear at her before eyeing her with thinly veiled suspicion.

_I guess we're not going to be friends anytime soon._

Gandalf mounted with a confounding ease that defied his apparent age. "We must not delay," he told them.

Legolas swung up on Arod and then looked down at Lana, offering his hand. She shook her head though surprising him.

"You ride with Gimli. I'll ride with Aragorn," she told him.

Her words stung but Legolas tucked the hurt away. He had hoped that she would ride with him to Edoras. He had welcomed the idea of feeling her arms around his waist as the wind blew through their hair and the land vanished beneath Arod's hooves. Indeed, he had looked forward to it. He watched as she walked to Aragorn and the Ranger hoisted her up behind him.

Gimli stood looking up at Legolas impatiently. He grumbled at the nonsense moods of the elves and that they were never useful when they should be. At last, Legolas seemed to take notice of him. He hauled the dwarf up behind him. The touch of the dwarf's gloved fingers around his middle was not at all how he imaged Lana's would feel. Setting aside his desires and daydreams he maneuvered Arod, who was chomping at the bit eagerly.

Lana knew that Legolas was unhappy with her decision, but she liked seeing him and Gimli becoming friendlier. She wanted them to continue to build upon that friendship. Also, she did not want Gimli to feel slighted because Legolas chose her as a riding companion instead of him.

And, she admitted in her heart of hearts, some part of her needed just a bit of space from the elf. The realization of just how close they had become over the past few months troubled her. No matter how cliché it sounded old habits did indeed die hard.

Mentally she knew she wasn't ready for what her heart seemed to be doing. Time and space apart would be good for both of them she reasoned.

The men drove their horses forward and the plains flew past in a blur. After awhile, Lana adjusted to riding double back and felt more at ease. This was good since they rode for hours—until the sun began to drift towards the western horizon.

When the sun at last touched the horizon taking the light with it, Gandalf slowed Shadowfax. Hasufel and Arod were breathing heavily, but the king of horses hardly seemed winded.

"We will camp here tonight," Gandalf told them as he dismounted. "The horses need rest, as do we."

Lana prepared a small fire while the men took care of the horses and the setting up of the camp. It was the first fire Aragorn allowed since Amon Hen. Grateful, Lana sat close to the flames absorbing their heat while her mind wandered. The light bounced across her face, flickering in her eyes. Had a stranger looked upon her then, they would have seen a woman of stark beauty and mystery. Though she would have scoffed at the supposition. As it was, her thoughts were on Frodo and Sam.

Where were they? Where they ok? Had they been captured like Merry and Pippin? Or were they safe? There had been no discussion between her and her companions about them. Sometimes she forgot the whole reason for this wild quest was to make sure that Ring was destroyed.

Lana frowned. What a bizarre adventure this was turning out to be. She sighed heavily, allowing her eyes to focus on the dancing flames. Gimli sat across from her smoking, also lost in his own thoughts. Aragorn was taking his time tending to Hasufel. Apparently tending the horse was as soothing for the man as it was for the stallion.

Lana was unaware of her watcher who stood behind her. Legolas had finished tending Arod. Now he stood just a few feet behind her debating how to approach her. She was so deep in thought that he hesitated to disturb her. Especially after she had rejected him earlier. The gap he felt between them kept him rooted behind her with indecision.

Mentally he berated himself. It was a new feeling for the elf, this uncertainty. And it was not at all pleasant. But before he could make up his mind, Lana sighed. She got to her feet and approached Gandalf who stood just beyond the small ring of light. He smiled as she approached, but it faded when he peered into her face.

"You are troubled," he stated.

Lana said nothing but nodded after a moment.

"You were in fine spirits this morning. What has happened between then and now that has changed that?"

She shrugged, and made a very Italian gesture with her hand before speaking eloquently. "Time."

She folded her arms and kicked at a stone with her sneaker. She frowned at the condition of her Chucks. The white bits of fabric were completely stained. The black fabric was wearing thin on her right shoe where it met the rubber toe. The Converses were in terrible shape.

Besides the few things in her backpack, like her cosmetic bag that she hadn't touched since arriving in this world, her shoes were one of the few things she had left of her home. Seeing the wear and tear made her heart sink.

"Why such sadness?" Gandalf asked, interrupting her thoughts.

Lana sighed and ran a hand through the hair that had fallen from her braid. Peering up into Gandalf's wise face she replied. "I've been having a lot of dreams while you've been gone. Some of them have been nightmares…and all of them have had to do with home in some way or another."

Gandalf laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. The sympathetic gestured made her eyes tear up.

"I've wanted to go home so badly—especially when I first came here," she confided. "Sometimes the need to find a way is so strong that…" she stopped herself unable to put into words the need that had compelled her. She stared out over the darkening plains.

"I miss my brother," she said at last. "I miss my parents and my crazy cat. I miss traveling by car, eating sushi, and going out with my friends. I miss surfing and working—and doing things that I was _good_ at. I miss all the stupid daily routines that I took for granted."

Gandalf studied her closely. "You said 'wanted'; has your desire to return changed?"

Lana shrugged and gestured helplessly with her hands. "Yes. No…I don't _know_. I'm so confused, Gandalf," she said lowering her voice further

"And understandably so," the wizard said. "You have made new friends here, gone through many dangers together. You have all bonded closely."

Lana nodded and wiped a stray tear from her eye. "It…it would break my heart to leave them," she revealed in a hushed voice. "Aragorn and Gimli are like family to me, and Legolas…." And here her voice became tender without her realizing it. "I don't know how it happened, but he's become my best friend."

Gandalf smiled warmly and turned to regard her companions. Aragorn and Gimli were talking and smoking together by the fire. Legolas, however, was staring intently at Gandalf and Lana from where he now sat on the ground. The elf did not hide the fact that he was deeply interested in their discussion

The wizard looked back to Lana. She was still staring blankly ahead. He could sense the deep torment of her soul. She was being pulled in two directions. Reaching forward, he tipped her chin gently forcing her to look at him.

"You must not trouble yourself with attempting to choose between two worlds. That decision was never yours to make."

A defiant spark flared to life in her eyes, but so too did her sadness expand. Letting go of her chin, he placed both of his hands on her shoulders.

"I told you once that you would live out your days in this world."

She nodded slowly and swallowed.

"That is the truth. Other than this, I know not what will happen; but Middle Earth is your home now. Your dreams arise because your mind is in turmoil." He looked deeply into her eyes. "You long to go and you long to stay, but no matter what you hope or dream, your home is here. Your world has been lost to you."

Now the tears flowed freely from her eyes. Gandalf gently squeezed her shoulders before releasing her. "But why?" She whispered brokenly. "How did I come here? And why can't I leave?"

Gandalf sighed and shook his head. "I do not know how you entered this world. That will no doubt be revealed in time. I only know that you are meant to be here. That is a certainty."

Still being stubborn, Lana frowned. "And _how_ do you know that?" She demanded.

"Because I am a wizard, and I know many things that others do not. We will leave it at that!" He said tersely.

Lana dropped her gaze to her shoes. Gandalf sighed. "This conversation should cease as its continuation will only hurt you further. It is time that you left your world behind you and prepared yourself for a life here."

Lana hugged herself, saying nothing. They were quiet for a few minutes, and then Lana sighed, deflated in more ways than one.

"You told me that I couldn't leave. I suppose that part of me just refuses to accept that. I believe…_believed_, that if I came here then, logically, I should be able to go back."

"And that is a _logical_ thought, but not all that happens in life makes sense," Gandalf said wisely. "Things can happen without a reason and beyond reckoning."

Glancing up, he saw that Legolas was still watching them intently. Turning back to Lana he said, "You have made good friends here that love you. They can help you move forward, and I will do whatever is in my power to help you; but only you can let go and move on," he said meaningfully.

Lana pursed her lips but finally nodded. Leaning close, Gandalf whispered words that only she could hear. "A certain Mirkwood elf has been watching us for quite some time now, and he appears worried. He has been uneasy ever since we left Fangorn as I am sure you know."

Lana bit her lip and nodded again, not meeting Gandalf's knowing eyes. Pulling back, the wizard smiled perceptively at her. "Allow him to ease your troubles and in doing so perhaps you will ease his."

The woman gave Gandalf a curious expression before moving off to the elf. Legolas immediately rose from where he sat.

_"Pedo ah nin?" _ She asked him. _Speak with me?_

He nodded and the two moved several yards away from the others. Aragorn and Gimli watched them curiously. But they were out of earshot of even the Ranger's sensitive hearing.

Legolas turned then and looked straight into Lana's deep blue eyes. His gaze was intense, practically accusatory. "You wish to leave us? Is that what I heard?"

Lana grimaced and lowered her eyes. She tucked some loose hair behind her ear before speaking. "You shouldn't have been eavesdropping."

"It could not be helped," he said staring hard at her. "Lana, do you wish to leave us?"

The pain in his dulcet voice made her heart clench. Quickly she looked up at him. He so rarely used her given name anymore, preferring instead to use his pet name for her.

She shook her head, fiddling with her messy braid. "I can't return to my world. This is…this is my home now," she said a bit unsteadily. "But if I had the choice…to return to my home," she looked up at him. "I don't think that I could leave. And that frightens me." She ended in a whisper.

A sudden unexpected relief washed over him. Legolas took her fidgeting hands in his. Running his thumbs over the backs of her fingers he tilted his head to better see her face.

"Why?"

Lana sighed expressively. "Because…because I wanted to go home so badly in the beginning. It was all I thought about. And then, all it took was some time spent with new friends, a task to do, and a few disconcerting dreams to cause me to question what I want."

She grimaced, and he could sense the wave of emotion she was trying so hard to suppress. "Thinking about leaving you and the others—it _hurts_," she confided.

And her talk of leaving them pained Legolas, but he could not help but feel compassionate. He thought he knew Lana well, but it seemed that she had managed to hide still more wounds from him.

"My mind…it just keeps hoping that there is still a way for me to go home, but at the same time, it knows what would happen if I did."

"Of what do you speak?" He asked softly.

"Do you remember the dream I had where I was home with my friend Marie? And I kept trying to tell her who you were?"

Legolas nodded remembering well her distress.

"It frightened me because it made me realize that if I did go home, I would still remember everything that happened here and no one else would know. Everyone would think that I was making things up, or think that I'm crazy. And that's _really_ upsetting."

He tightened his grip on her hands slightly.

"It made me realize that if I went home, I wouldn't be completely happy like I thought I would be. I'd miss all you guys who I've come to love like family. And I couldn't tell anyone about you or this world without getting committed to a mental institution or something."

While Legolas did know what a 'mental institution' was, he assumed the essence of her words. Concerned Legolas stepped closer to her, pulling her hands to his chest. "Have all your dreams been of this nature?"

Slowly she nodded, keeping her eyes diverted. "Most of them have been. It wasn't until last night that they stopped. Did you do something to block my dreams?"

Legolas shook his head. "Nay. I told you that I would protect you from them—to comfort you, but it is beyond my power to truly make them cease. I am an elf, not a wizard."

Lana's lips quirked slightly. She felt silly for believing that he had such power, but who could blame her? Anything seemed possible in this world.

"Gandalf talked some sense into me—even though it hurt. A lot. Giving up my world completely is not…it is not easy for me. How do you let go of something that is so integral to who you are? That defines you?" She shook her head sadly. "I cannot forget who I am, where I was born, where I lived…"

Legolas stepped closer still and tilted her chin so he could look into her eyes. "You should never forget your home, Lana. _Never_. No matter how far away from it you are. It will always be a part of you."

She exhaled, her voice wobbly. "I know. It's just that I will have to figure out how to let go without completely burying away all thoughts of it." Restraining her fragile feelings, she gave him a self-depreciating smile. "I'm an Olympic champion of hiding things from myself as a way to cope."

Again he didn't understand all her words, but he understood the meaning well enough. He held her gaze. "And from others as well."

Lana gave him a questioning look.

"You attempted to hide the pain from your fall in Fangorn from me. There is not much that you can hide from me any longer. The deeper our friendship becomes, the easier it is for me to know your feelings.

Lana grimaced and looked away for a moment before peering up into his eyes. "That was foolish of me; I'm sorry. I was upset because I was the only one to fall and hurt myself."

"There is nothing to be ashamed of. We can all have accidents."

She gave him a skeptical lift of her brow. "You're an elf. You don't have accidents."

He snorted at that. "I do. And I have. I am not a perfect being. Only Eru and the Valar are believed to be without faults."

Lana lifted a brow. "Fine. I promise to try not to hide stuff anymore, but you have to promise me the same."

His brow furrowed in confusion.

"You can't deny that something has been bothering you all day. I know we've been riding so there wasn't time to talk. But you didn't look at all happy when we left Fangorn. And you've barely said a word when we set up camp tonight." Smirking playfully, she took one step closer to him and gave him a soft tap on the temple as she asked, "What's on your mind?"

It was Legolas' turn to drop her gaze. "I had hoped that you would ride with me," he admitted softly.

Lana smiled warmly and tilted her head to catch his eyes. "I'm really touched that you wanted me to ride with you, but I didn't want Gimli's feelings to get hurt. You two have been friendly, and that makes me happy," she said amiably. "I didn't want him to feel as if he was second best."

Legolas nodded understanding now. "The thought had not occurred to me," he confessed.

She grinned humorously. "Well, now it has. So, no hard feelings?"

Legolas shook his head. "Nay."

The two stood in silence for a long moment. The elf suddenly seemed uncharacteristically nervous. One of his hands began toying with the frayed edge of his tunic. Lana had not noticed before how the edge of it was missing. Recalling all those months ago when Legolas had ripped part of his tunic and had wrapped her hand with the soft cloth.

He had done so much for her.

"Legolas? What's wrong?" She asked him.

He glanced up into her eyes, his gaze intense, but also worried. "There is something I have desired to ask you, but I knew not if I would be overstepping propriety."

Lana studied him thoughtfully. His words made her tense slightly, but she was curious now too. "You're my friend, Legolas. Nothing you could ask will overstep any boundaries."

He smiled but it faded and Lana wondered what was bothering him so much. "Are you still upset about me not riding with you? Are you mad at me?" She asked not knowing what he could be so uptight about.

He shook his head quickly. "Nay, 'tis but a question that has been sitting in my mind for a time." He glanced down for a moment before inhaling and looking into her face. "Ever since you told me how you acquired your scar. I wanted to ask you that night, but I did not want to cause you further pain."

Lana felt a bit nervous now but also extremely inquisitive. "The scar and the events around it don't bother me quite as much as they used to. Not since I've been able to share it with you. So, ask me."

Legolas swallowed, his eyes boring into hers as if he meant to draw the answer he sought from her eyes. "You mentioned that your lover…that he left you," he whispered.

Lana nodded, her heart beginning to race. Licking her lips she answered. "Yes. Eric and I were together for three years."

Legolas inhaled sharply, then exhaled in the same manner. "Were you…betrothed?"

Surprised, Lana shook her head instantly. "No. He asked me once, but I said no." She grimaced slightly. "Our relationship changed after that. That was before I went to Afghanistan, mind you."

Legolas nodded slowly, riveted to her words.

"We wanted different things, Eric and I." She thought for a moment. Then she shrugged and objectively said, "He wanted to start a family, but I wanted to be free and not tied down anywhere yet. I think I frustrated him." Her face became dark then. "It wasn't until later that I found out he had been cheating on me while I was in Afghanistan. Some girl he met at his office."

She shook her head, still miffed even though it had happened some time ago. Legolas frowned deeply at this revelation.

"I don't know how love works here," she continued. "But in my world some people lie and cheat to get what they want. Love is cheap. People have one-nightstands with strangers all for a moment of selfish gratification. They are attracted to superficial things like beauty, money, and sex. Even husbands and wives cheat on each other. It's how sick it's become."

She frowned realizing she was trailing off.

"To go back to your question; no, I was never engaged to Eric." She held Legolas' eyes. "I'm glad that I never did accept his proposal. He turned out to be like all the other jerks I've dated."

Legolas exhaled. He did not understand why her words comforted him so, but they did.

"Forgive me if I have stirred up bad memories or overstepped my—"

He stopped talking the moment Lana's fingers touched his lips. A wild sensation filled him, the likes of which he had never felt before.

"You didn't," she said removing her hand. "You allowed me to talk to you once about what happened to me. And while it sometimes hurts to think or talk about that or Eric, it doesn't hurt quite as much anymore."

Legolas smiled. "This pleases me."

Lana smiled. "Me too." She stepped closer and rested her hands on the soft fabric of his tunic. "Was that all you wanted to know? Whether Eric and I were engaged?"

Legolas nodded. "Aye. I know not why it plagued me so. I only know that I am content to have the answer."

Lana found it rather disconcerting that Legolas wanted to know if she had been affianced. But she told herself that he was only curious and she left it at that. He was her friend after all.

They stood close together in silence for several minutes. A light breeze blew around them, and Lana brushed the loose hair out of her face. She sighed when her fingers caught in one of the many tangles. After a few frustrating and failed attempts, she managed to pull her fingers free. Gazing at Legolas, she tilted her head curiously.

_"Man?" _He asked. _What?_

She shook her head bemused. "It amazes me how your hair manages to stay perfectly in place 99.9% of the time. You have to tell me your secret."

Legolas grinned. He sensed that she was more at ease, and the fact that she wished to tease him put him in a light mood.

"'Tis a well-kept secret of the elves, _hiril nín._ It would not be a secret if I told you." He teased in return.

Lana laughed and decided to let her hair loose completely. Smirking at the elf, she said, "Well, I wish I knew that secret," she shook her hair out then grimaced at how frizzy it was. "Especially on a night like this when mine is all out of control."

He smiled warmly, amused at her attempts to tame her wavy hair. "You worry far too much."

She stuck her tongue at him, making him laugh. "I just hate looking like some wild woman." She pursed her lips as she pulled her own hair to one side and inspected the ends. "When I was working at the bureau my hair would always be neat and well styled with a bit of time spent in front of a mirror. But your hair—it's frightening. Every single strand is exactly where it should be."

She cocked her head to one side and smiled. "Well, maybe one or two are out of place, but who's keeping count?"

Legolas chuckled. "I am glad that you do not hold that against me."

She laughed along with him, still studying his hair. A small wisp of pale blond hair had fallen from Legolas' braid, and it now danced freely in front of his ear.

"Why do you always wear your hair in braids?" She asked curiously.

"Warriors wear them. It is a symbol of their status. And it is practical as well."

Lana nodded, her eyes still drawn to the loose tendrils waving in the breeze. On impulse, she reached forward and gently brushed the loose hair back behind his ear. Her finger lightly touched the rim of his ear as she combed the fine strands into place.

Legolas' eyes slipped closed at the contact even as his blood suddenly shot through his veins. It began to pool in his chest and further down in his loins as his heart pumped increasingly faster.

Unaware of the effect of her fingers Lana lingered on the rim of his ear. The softness of his skin and the pointed tip intrigued her. She had grown accustomed to Legolas' strange ears and everything elvish about him, when only a couple of months before he had been alien to her. She smiled as she touched this defining elven feature.

After a moment, Legolas inhaled sharply only to exhale loudly. His eyes shot open, and he snatched up her hand, pulling it to his chest. He covered it with both of his. She could feel his heart racing beneath her palm, and she saw a strange look in his eyes. She stared up at him in confusion.

"Elven ears are very sensitive to…touch," he said breathlessly.

"Oh! I'm so sorry! I didn't hurt you did I?" She tried to pull her hand back, but Legolas didn't release her.

Slowly he shook his head. "You did not hurt me…quite the opposite," he revealed softly.

"Oh-_oh!_ Uhm…" With sudden understanding, she drew back a little. The strange look in his eyes was unmistakable now, and his voice had gone husky.

_What did you just do, Lana? _

Legolas saw the apprehensive look on her face. "Do not be frightened or regret what has been done, for I do not. The feeling was unexpected, but not unpleasant."

Legolas admitted to himself that the feeling had been beyond pleasant. It had been exquisite! Her simple touch upon him made his heart race with anticipation and sent a strange thrilling warmth sailing through his body that he had never experienced before. He desired to capture that feeling and hold on to it.

"Still, I'm sorry," she offered lamely.

"Do not be." He gave her a slow smile while willing his heart to stop thundering so loudly. Surely she could hear it as well as feel it! Still clasping her hand to his chest he fondled her slender fingers, tracing the outer edges of her hand with his fingers.

Lana's own heart started to race in time with Legolas' as he caressed her hand. His eyes still held that look—pleasure and contentment mixed with a little something else she didn't want to understand. The mesmerizing touch of his nimble fingers over hers made her eyes flutter closed. Her world became only tactile as she focused on his gentle touch on her skin, and the continuous beat of his heart. She felt the heat from his body and his gentle breath on her skin.

Her breaking quickened as her heart ran away from her. She felt a familiar warmth swell within her, and sensations long dormant began to stir. She exhaled forcefully and stepped back pulling her hand away.

Legolas was confused by her abrupt separation. Her eyes had been closed and she had seemed content with him touching her hand. What had gone wrong so suddenly?

"We…we should probably go to bed…eh, sleep, er—_rest!_ We should probably rest," she fumbled. She felt her whole body flush hotly and mentally swore at herself.

Legolas nodded slowly. He was baffled. He could sense her nervousness and he blamed himself for causing it to appear in her. The elf did not know what had come over him nor did he completely understand what had just happened between them. All he knew was that Lana was now uncomfortable in his presence, and it caused him unexpected discomfort.

"You are right. It is late." He looked back at their companions to see that Gimli was sleep. Aragorn was speaking with Gandalf some ten yards away "Gimli is already resting. We should do the same."

Legolas walked her back towards the others. Her heart thundered the entire way. She was aware of his every movement, his every breath. Without warning or permission, she felt very afraid. Afraid because she knew damn well what was going on. Once again something unexpected jostled her world. Something that she did not want right now.

It was at that moment that Lana understood something very clearly. She was attracted to Legolas. And, if she had interpreted his actions correctly he was attracted to her, even if he did not realize it.

_Ah shit._

* * *

_The paths of love never did run smooth they say! I always enjoy hearing from you._

_As always, thanks for reading!_


	24. Meduseld

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story. **

I make no claim to Tolkien's works_._ I also give credit to Cormak3032.

This chapter is dedicated to Squalohaifisch. Thank you for your kind review! I'm so touched!

* * *

**Chapter 23: Meduseld**

Gandalf remained sitting alone on a boulder facing the night covered plains while his companions slept. All walked the land of dreams. Except for Legolas. Casting a covert glance towards the camp, Gandalf frowned at the sight of the elf standing near Lana's sleeping form.

Thranduil's son stood with his arms crossed over his chest, his hair blowing in the light wind around him. The elf would occasionally gaze out over the dark land, but for the most part, his focus was on the mortal woman who lay sleeping in the grass at his feet.

Gandalf had not heard what was said between them, but he knew things had gone ill. The two had returned from talking and Lana had lain down immediately to sleep. There were no words between them. Only tension and awkwardness. The Mirkwood elf had waited until the mortal woman fallen asleep and then once she was unaware, he stood over her like a sentinel.

Sighing deeply, the wizard turned away and faced east. Though still far in the distance, a faint line of reddish light could be seen on the horizon. A deadly light that marked Sauron's domain. The fires of Mount Doom made the over hanging clouds glow orange.

He had been pleased to learn from Aragorn that Frodo had not gone on alone to Mordor. Sam traveled with him. The wizard prayed that time and fortune would be on their side.

There was a startled gasp. Pivoting quickly, hand on his sword hilt, Gandalf faced the camp. He frowned but was relieved to discover that there was no danger.

Lana was shifting restlessly and mumbled; her face creased in distress. Gandalf sighed when he realized that more dark dreams were plaguing her. Lana's problems could not be solved in a single night.

Legolas, well aware of the situation, took immediate action. He crouched down his hands reaching for the troubled woman. He combed his fingers through her hair, speaking softly to her in Sindarin until she settled once more. Gradually her breathing evened out and she settled never having awoken from her latest dream.

Even though it was apparent that Legolas was no longer needed to sooth her bad dreams away, he did not leave her side. Instead, the elf sat upon the ground, his legs crossed. His long fingers did not leave her hair; the backs of them occasionally smoothing over the skin of her face in a repetitive motion.

Gandalf observed this with keen interest. Legolas remained by Lana's side despite the tension that lingered between them. It was thick as molasses. Still, the wizard sensed that a bond had formed between them. Upon his return, he had noted right away the close friendship between the two, where earlier there had been much distrust on Lana's part. This friendship they now shared continued to strengthen despite the awkwardness that hung between them.

Gandalf watched Legolas for several minutes. His mind whirled with possibilities. _Let us test just how strong this bond is,_ he mused to slyly himself.

"Legolas,"

The elf looked up but his fingers did not once stop their repetitive path through Lana's golden tresses. "Aye Gandalf," he answered softly.

"I wonder if you would take an old man's place and keep watch for a while."

Legolas' body went rigid at the request, but he eventually nodded in acquiescence. He was slow to rise and even slower to bring his fingers away from Lana's hair, but he did as he was asked. The disappointment and concern was deftly hidden behind a pale blank mask.

"She will be alright." Gandalf assured him as the elf approached. "I will watch over her so that no further dreams will disturb her."

Legolas nodded. Some of his tension faded, although Gandalf could plainly feel that the elf was not at all pleased with being drawn away from the woman. Gandalf sat cross-legged near Lana's head. She was sleeping peacefully as if her dreams had never haunted her. Casting his eyes upon the elven archer, who now stood watch a few yards away, Gandalf knew that Legolas was another story altogether.

The wizard had seen Legolas take watch on many occasions. He was, after all, the eyes and ears of the Fellowship. On the path south well before Moria, Legolas had shown the patience and fortitude of a true elven warrior. Very little could distract him. Not even Merry and Pippin when they played noisy foolish games.

It was incredible how the smallest things could spark such a dramatic change in so little time. A slow smile curved his lips.

Unlike all the previous times Gandalf had observed him, Legolas was now becoming easily distracted. The elf's keen ears listened to every breath, every sigh, every mew uttered by the woman. On more than one occasion, when Gandalf pretended to be looking away, Legolas turned to make certain that Lana was well. His carefully schooled mask was slipping rapidly with each passing moment, revealing a troubled soul.

Removing his pipe from the small pouch within his white robes, Gandalf filled it with Long Bottom Leaf and lit it. He drew a few puffs before letting the smoke rise. He continued to study Legolas. No matter the strain between them, Gandalf understood that Legolas was deeply dedicated to her. Like all the Fellowship, each was loyal to their companions. Legolas was no exception.

The slow burning leaf dimly lit Gandalf's face as he took another puff. He grinned to himself.

The elf was dedicated to his companions indeed, but his attention and energy lingered on one companion quite a bit more than the others. Crossing his arms over his chest, the wizard continued to puff on his pipe. He was intrigued by his new discovery and congratulated himself on figuring it out before anyone else. _Except perhaps Lana,_ he realized.

That must be the reason for the tension. She was not obtuse, and Legolas was not subtle. Though what she made of his behavior was yet to be seen. Gandalf had known Legolas for many years. In all that time he had never seen a quite devotion like this. Not even the brief fascination with Mirkwood's Captain garnered the same dedication.

Yet despite Legolas' lingering looks and worried confusion, it was clear that the elf had yet to realize why he was feeling the way he did. Thranduil's son had little if no experience in attraction; therefore it was no surprise to Gandalf that Legolas was unaware of the root cause. He did wonder what it would take for the elf to figure it out. Legolas was clever but for all his long years he was still inexperienced in certain things.

Gandalf wondered what it was that drew these two together. At this point it was difficult to say how deep the attraction ran. It could be nothing more than keen friendship between them. Or…it could be something more. They were an unlikely pair to say in the least. And what could it lead to? Sighing, he knew only time would tell.

o0o

The night had been unbearably long for the immortal elf of the north. Legolas could not recall a time when he had felt so impatient to see the dawn.

Gandalf had asked for him to keep watch for a short while, but Legolas had ended up taking it for much of the night. While keeping watch was something he normally enjoyed, that night it had made him irritable and impatient.

He wanted to be the one by Lana's side, to soothe her concerns away. Legolas felt a strange sentiment seep through his veins as Gandalf leaned over to rouse the woman from her sleep. Unconsciously his hands curled into fists. He watched the two as they began speaking in hushed whispers. He frowned when he was unable to hear their words.

Legolas had hoped to speak with Lana when she awakened so that he could understand exactly what had gone wrong between them. He wished to patch any misunderstandings so that the discomfort he felt from being separated from her would recede.

"You dreamt again," Gandalf stated softly, watching as the woman sat up.

With a yawn she nodded, and then rubbed her sleep filled eyes. "I think I did. I'm not really sure. I don't remember much of anything. Just a vague sense of distress, but as quickly as it came it went." She stretched then sighed, raking a hand through her hair.

"This should be joyous news, yet you seem troubled," Gandalf said perceptibly.

Rubbing her left hand over the grass she said, "Someone spoke to me outside of my dream. I have no idea what they said. And…and I think someone touched my hair too." She shrugged. "But that could have been the dream." She pulled both hands into her lap and picked at the bandage on her right hand.

"It could have been; but it was not."

Lana stopped fidgeting and glanced up. She realized that Gandalf appeared to have spent much of the night beside her. The grass all around him was flattened from the weight of his robes. She smiled.

"It was you, wasn't it?"

Gandalf shook his head. "No, it was not I,"

Confused, Lana tilted her head questioningly. The wizard looked away, and she followed his gaze. Her eyes settled upon the lithe form of Legolas. The elf was standing very still, his arms crossed over his chest and his hair drifting gently around him.

Light blue collided with dark, and Lana swallowed at the intensity of his stare. Flushing she diverted her eyes. The wizard had not missed the exchange. A small smile tugged the edge of his lips. Something was definitely stirring between these two.

Lana narrowed her eyes as she caught Gandalf's amusement. She asked him a question to divert his attention. "Where are we going again?"

"Edoras," Gandalf replied and at her look of confusion he added, "It is the city where the King of Rohan resides."

One of the horses snorted loudly and stomped its hoof and both Lana and Gandalf turned to look at it. Aragorn was already saddling his chestnut horse.

"Aragorn is impatient to leave," Lana noted aloud. "And so is Hasufel," she added when the horse began to paw at the earth.

"Aye, and with good reason. We still have a long way to travel. Eat quickly so that we may depart."

The wizard got to his feet and patted her shoulder before he went to join the others. Lana was so tired of eating elvish way-bread that she didn't bother pulling from her back. She'd rather go hungry today then eat another piece of it.

Aragorn was already astride his horse, which made things far too easy for her. She knew she was purposely avoiding Legolas. It bothered her to do so. Truly, she was appalled at her own behavior, but she couldn't seem to stop. She was not ready to confront her newly discovered feelings, and needed time to think she argued with herself.

She walked to Aragorn, who nodded his head in greeting before he hoisted her up behind him. She settled herself carefully, taking time to make sure she wasn't sitting on her cloak, adjusting her backpack and quiver and bow—all so that she didn't have to look elsewhere.

Once settled, she dug the dirt out from her fingernails, and toyed with the ends of her braid. She did anything to keep her mind off of last night and the elf who wouldn't stop staring at her. The sound of another horse approaching interrupted her thoughts and without thinking she looked at it. Her heart started thundering as she saw which horse it was and who was on its back.

Legolas had moved Arod up beside Hasufel. It was clear that the he did not intend to be ignored. His brows were drawn low over his eyes and he appeared deeply anguished as well as confused. He did not speak but continued to gaze at the mortal who whose silence was torturing his heart.

Why would she not say something to him?

Lana gave him a forced smile and a short nod. He parted his lips to wish her a good morning, but she glanced away. Legolas felt something twist in his chest. Lana appeared afraid to look at him or speak with him—and it hurt. He feared that their friendship was going backward instead of forward.

Lana grimaced once her face was turned the other way. She was acting like a fool and an idiot, but she couldn't stop. The sight of the handsome elf had instantly flooded her senses with emotions she did not want right now. It had made her feel anxious.

Gimli now sitting behind Legolas rolled his eyes at the two. _Here we go again,_ he thought to himself. He had sensed tension in the elf this morning, and knew instantly that it had nothing to do with danger but with Lana. It seemed that they were at it again…whatever it was.

Gandalf urged Shadowfax into a canter. Hasufel followed smoothly and the spirited Arod leapt forward after them. Lana held on tightly to Aragorn as Hasufel hit his stride. She wished desperately that the lump in her throat and the ache in her heart would go away.

Troubled as she was Lana completely missed the beautiful scenery that flew past them. Under normal circumstances it would have taken her breath away. She also failed to see that Legolas rode his horse close to Aragorn's and that his eyes barely left her form since they set out hours ago.

It was only when Aragorn pulled Hasufel to a halt did she look up to see a huge hill. On its crown was a structure that from down below looked gilded. Lana's lips parted in awe. Edoras was not like how she pictured. In her head she had imaged a great stone city, something like medieval London or Paris, perhaps.

All the buildings were wooden with thatched roofs. They appeared to be growing straight out of the hill like many oddly shaped mushrooms. The largest structure was the golden one on top. She guessed that it must be made of wood as well. _Things are going to be more primitive than I thought._ Still, she was happy to see civilization—_any_ civilization.

Behind this rickety town—for it was more of a town than a city in her mind—there marched a line of snowcapped mountains. It was very picturesque.

"Edoras and the Golden Hall of Meduseld." Gandalf announced as they all gazed ahead.

Lana turned to the wizard and nearly jumped when she saw Legolas had ridden Arod directly between Hasufel and Shadowfax. The elf was not peering at her now, though it was obvious to Lana that he had positioned Arod where he had in order to gain her attention.

His gaze was trained forward, his eyebrows lowered. She could tell from the intensity of his stare upon Edoras that Legolas sensed something was wrong.

Aragorn sat deeply in the saddle, one hand resting on his thigh as he gazed at the Rohan capital. Throughout Gandalf's words of caution, he felt Lana moving restlessly behind him. When Legolas and Gimli appeared at their side, Lana had gripped his waist tightly in what seemed like surprise.

The Ranger knew that something was wrong between again. He had known it the moment he had awakened that morning. He could not understand what caused their tension now. He made a mental note to speak to one or both of them. This quest took priority over all. They could not afford any ill will between them.

"Saruman's hold over King Théoden is now very strong," Gandalf continued.

Lana studied the town again, marveling at the craftsmanship, despite its humble appearance. It would be so wonderful to finally have a hot bath and a real meal, and a soft bed to sleep on.

"Be careful what you say," Gandalf forewarned, dashing her hopes in the process. "Do not look for welcome here."

She sighed as Shadowfax cantered ahead followed closely by Arod. Aragorn urged Hasufel on as well though the chestnut followed more sedately.

Legolas had not once looked at or acknowledged her during the brief stop or ride to the city gates. It was nothing less than she deserved though. With how she had been treating him, she deserved far worse than his disregard. Especially after how kind and sweet and caring he had been towards her.

_But that is exactly what has me worried. How far does his caring go?_ Still she felt like an absolute heel. And a coward. She bowed her head in shame, grateful that no one could see her now.

The wooden gates loomed ahead. They were not overly tall, probably some thirty feet, but they were wide. At least six horses could ride in abreast. Shadowfax trotted through the open gates with Arod on his heels. Aragorn slowed Hasufel briefly.

Glancing ahead, Lana saw that a flag that was blowing over the grass captured his attention. It was green with a white horse emblazoned upon it. The man glanced up then back at the flag, his mind troubled.

The road up to the hall was steep and made of packed yellowed dirt. No one stopped them from entering the city, nor were they pursued as they rode up the hill. It was eerily quiet, like a ghost town, but there were people.

Lana caught sight of them, dressed in dark homespun clothes. They watched them suspiciously as Lana and her companions rode past. They were human like Lana and Aragorn, but they did not seem very friendly. Feeling uneasy, Lana lifted her chin defiantly but held on tightly to Aragorn.

"You'll find more cheer in a graveyard," Gimli noted glumly.

Lana had to agree.

They rode on until they reached the summit. The great hall loomed above them, richly decorated with gilt designs that reminded Lana of Celtic knot work. Instantly intrigued she desired a closer look.

They dismounted, Aragorn helping Lana down. Her eyes were drawn to the hall, the journalist in her very alert now. She wished she had her camera. Instead she took mental notes trying not to miss a single detail. Aragorn and Legolas tied their horses to a wooden post while Shadowfax waited patiently beside them.

Lana followed behind her companions as they walked up the stone steps. As soon as they reached the top of the steps, two large wooden doors with golden scrollwork swung open. A group of soldiers wearing heavy armor and green cloaks edged in gold barred their way.

Lana felt a little red flag go off at the sight of them. Instinctively she straightened her spine. The leader of this band looked fierce but there was something in how he carried himself that led her to believe that he was not pleased about something. And that something had nothing to do with them.

Gandalf smiled upon seeing the soldiers, but it evaporated with the head soldier's words.

"I cannot allow you before Théoden King so armed, Gandalf Greyhame," he said; then there was a subtle change in his tone. "By order of Grima Wormtongue."

Lana frowned knowing for sure that something wasn't right. Why did this soldier seem displeased? What was going on? And what kind of name was 'Grima Wormtongue'? She wrinkled her nose before catching herself.

Gandalf nodded to Aragorn and Lana, and then to Gimli and Legolas who stood on either side of him. Two soldiers stepped forward ready to take their weapons. Lana frowned not liking this one bit, and her frown deepened when Aragorn raised his brows and glanced pointedly at her sword.

The Ranger unbuckled his sword belt. Gimli and Legolas were also slowly disarming. The little red flag in her mind started waving frantically now. This was a bad idea, but Lana followed suit. She felt naked without her sword and bow. Even her knife was taken. Surprisingly she was reluctant to part with it.

Once all their weapons were removed, Gandalf looked expectantly at the soldier. He seemed to grimace but looked pointedly at the wizard.

"Your staff," he said.

Gandalf made a noise of protest, and putting on the airs of an elderly man said, "You would not part an old man from his walking stick?" He leaned a bit more on the white staff.

Gimli smiled under his beard, and even Aragorn smirked slightly. The soldier looked undecided but at last nodded and turned on his heel to led them into the dark hall.

Legolas offered his arm to Gandalf to help with the ruse. Lana followed in step with Aragorn, her lips quirking. She wondered how much chaos would befall Edoras before they left it. Gandalf seemed prone to mischief.

One of the guards caught her eye as she walked past him. He smiled at her. His face was covered by his helm, but the glimmer in his eyes was unmistakable. Internally Lana rolled her own eyes. _As if I don't have enough problems._

The great doors were pushed closed and the sound of them locking was very ominous. The hall was not quite as dark as it had seemed once their eyes adjusted, but it was not greatly lit either. Massive pillars supported a high roof. These were elegantly carved and Lana saw banners hanging between each. Horse motifs were everywhere she looked. Ahead of them in a fall of sunlight from a skylight sat a very old man on an elaborately carved throne. He looked to be well past his prime, with grayish skin, silver hair, and cloudy eyes.

Next to him in black sat a greasy looking creature that Lana hesitated to call a man. The image of a worm came to mind. _M__ust be the Grima guy._ He was hideous and Lana shivered in disgust when his eyes flitted over her.

She noticed a group of men that trailed them as they approached the throne. Aragorn had seen them too, and he moved like one preparing for a fight. Lana bristled, not liking the situation one bit.

"The courtesy of your hall is somewhat lessened of late, Théoden King." Gandalf called out, drawing away from Legolas.

The strange man with the dark greasy hair whispered something to the old man once more. Very slowly the old king roused and spoke. "Why…should I welcome you…Gandalf Stormcrow?" The king glanced to the little man on his right, who was nodding in agreement.

"A just question, my liege," the oily man said moving to intercept them. "Late is the hour in which this conjurer chooses to appear."

Aragorn shared a look with Gandalf. Lana wrinkled her nose at the man ahead of them, before shooting a glare to the men who tracked them. They exuded bad intentions. Without conscious thought she looked for exits. It would be good to know where to run in case things became ugly.

"Lathspell I name him!" The little man cursed. "Ill news is an ill guest!"

"Be silent!" Gandalf commanded. "Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth!"

The oleaginous man drew back, looking very much like a snake that struck out at something bigger than it could swallow. He glared at the wizard.

"I have not passed through fire and death to bandy crooked words with a witless worm." Gandalf thrust his staff forward in a forceful motion.

Lana knew with certainty at that moment that _this_ man was, in fact, Grima Wormtongue. Her instincts had been right. Grima shrank back from Gandalf, his eyes growing wide.

"His staff!" He hissed. "I told you to take the wizard's staff!" He cried out angrily.

Gandalf brushed past him towards the throne even as men rushed forward in an attempt to stop him. They did not get far as Legolas and Aragorn began throwing punches. Even Gimli used his solid force to down several. Amid this chaos, Gandalf approached the decrepit king.

"Théoden! Son of Thengal!" He called. The old king seemed to squirm in his seat. "Too long have you sat in the shadows…"

Lana stood back as her companions dispatched the men. She kept her distance, not wanting to get involved in a fistfight. She was no match for their brute strength. However, three men seized the opportunity for an easy target. Her heart thundered and she felt herself unconsciously falling into a defensive posture.

Two of the men never made it to her. There was a flash of pale gold and green as Legolas plowed them over. Despite the tension that lingered between them, he had still come to protect her.

She didn't have time to linger on that as one man was still left standing. Legolas was now occupied with fending off several men that attacked him. Her companions were taking on these ruffians alone while she stood back and let them protect her.

Suddenly a surge of irritation with herself flared up. She was sick and tired of being the weak one; of letting the men do all the hard work. If she was ever going to survive in this world then she needed to learn to fight her own battles.

A simple, but no less brilliant idea came to her head. Encouraged she waited, locking eyes with the man who was coming at her. He was taller than her, with slick black hair. He reeked of body odor and stale alcohol. There was a mean look in his dark eyes and the way they raked over her Lana knew he was having salacious thoughts. Enraged she waited until he was almost upon her.

Balling her fist she feigned a swing at his face. As he went to block her blow she kicked her leg with all her might right between the legs.

Through high school and college, Lana had been a dancer. It had been a source of pleasure and exercise as it challenged her mind and body. As such she packed in quite a bit of strength in her legs from all the years of intense workouts.

The man yelped loudly, his hands immediately going to cover himself. Red-faced he fell to the floor writhing in agony. He looked like he was going to be sick.

Gimli's eyes widened and Legolas, who had just finished knocking a man to the ground, was bewildered by what Lana had just done.

"Remind me never to make her angry," Gimli muttered to the elf, lifting his bushy brows meaningfully.

The elf grinned heartily, his eyes settling on Lana, who was looking very smug. His heart began to race when she turned her smile on him. She flushed slightly at the approval in his eyes.

Gimli, meanwhile, saw a flash of dark cloth from the corner of his eye. He rushed after Grima with a growl. The man was attempting to escape on his hands and knees like an animal.

"I would stay still if I were you!" Gimli warned, pressing his booted foot firmly on the man's chest. Grima shrank back like the dog he was.

"Harken to me!" Gandalf's voice cracked like a whip, gaining the attention of the entire hall. Extending a hand towards the old man on the throne he spoke powerfully, "I release you from this spell."

There was a tense moment that was broken by a rather maniacal laugh from the king. Aragorn stared at Théoden in disbelief. Lana glanced at her companions who looked as confused as she.

"You have no power here, Gandalf the Grey," the king's voice snickered.

Gandalf stood taller then, and in a single motion, he pulled the gray Lothlórien cloak off his shoulders. His white robes seemed to shine much like they had in Fangorn, their brightness blinding the king and those in the hall.

Gandalf moved forward, determined. "I will draw you Saruman, as poison is drawn from a wound."

Thrusting his staff forward the king flew back as if physically struck. He gasped, and gripped the polished armrests of his throne tightly. A pained groan escaped his throat.

Lana felt Legolas tense beside her. Then he turned just as a fair woman in white rushed past him. Aragorn caught her before she could intercept Gandalf and the king.

"Wait," he bid her.

She looked at him with desperate eyes, her golden hair shimmering in the light. Then she stared back at the king.

"If I go, Théoden dies!" The old king croaked.

Hearing this, the woman struggled against Aragorn's hold. He held her firmly by both arms. Lana frowned at this and at the king's words. Wasn't this old man King Théoden? If not, then who was he? And who was this woman?

She looked desperate to get to the king's side.

"You did not kill me; you will not kill him." Gandalf said, thrusting his staff forward again.

The old man cried out, but he managed to open his cloudy eyes and glare at the wizard. "Rohan is mine!"

"Be gone!" Gandalf commanded forcefully.

The king's face contoured in agony for several breaths. Then he tried to lunge for Gandalf, but with a final thrust of the wizard's staff the king fell back with a loud cry. Then Gandalf lowered his staff and exhaled heavily.

The king sat slumped forward in his chair. Then he moaned, sounding very ill. The white-clad woman broke away from Aragorn and rushed to the throne. She caught the king just as he fell forward.

Lana inhaled in shock. What had just happened? Was the king dying? _Gandalf what did you do?_

Sensing her distress, Legolas buried his uncertainty and put a hand on her shoulder. He felt a glimmer of hope when she didn't pull away. She surprised him by covering his hand with hers. She gripped his fingers tightly.

What happened next would be sung next to fires throughout the land for generations to come. The old king suddenly seemed youthful. The gray pallor of his skin faded to a healthier ruddy complexion. His hair transformed into a golden color, speckled with some natural grays. His hazy eyes cleared and he looked in wonder about him. No longer did he appear on the verge of death, but instead like a man at a very healthy fifty-odd years of age.

He looked at the woman who knelt at his side with tears in her eyes. "I know your face…Éowyn,"

The woman laughed breathlessly as her joy choked her. Her cornflower blue eyes smiled with joy.

"Éowyn," the old king repeated.

She nodded and cupped his face. Lifting his gaze, Théoden noted the tall elderly man in white robes before him. He squinted in disbelief.

"Gandalf?"

The wizard smiled. "Breathe the free air again, my lord."

Éowyn helped the king rise, his strength coming slowly back to him. Lana noted how many of the people in the hall bowed their heads. She was still stunned by what she had just witnessed, questions whirled in her mind like leaves in the wind. It was impossible to catch even one.

"Dark have been my dreams of late," the king said, gazing down at his hands in wonder.

"Your fingers would remember their old strength better if they grasped your sword." Gandalf told him.

The head soldier from the doors stepped forward, bowed, and presented the king with a very fine sword. Slowly Théoden's fingers closed around the leather wrapped hilt. Pulling it from its sheath he inhaled, swelling up with strength.

Grima who still sat on his hands and knees tried to pull away, but Gimli held him fast by his collar.

The king held the sword up before him, then his gaze shifted and they honed in on Grima. The greasy worm of a man shook his head desperately. With merely a look from the king, the green-cloaked guards dragged the seducer from the hall. They tossed him down the stone steps outside. He rolled down them his body smacking into the stone mercilessly.

The king and entourage followed. Grima glanced up at the thundery face of Théoden and immediately started scrambling backward.

"I have only ever served you, my lord," he pleaded. His lip was bleeding and he appeared in great pain.

"Your leech-craft would have had me crawling on all fours like a beast!" Théoden snarled.

Lana watched from the portico above, sandwiched between Legolas and the white lady named Éowyn. Gandalf and Aragorn stood on the first landing behind the king.

"Send me not from your side," Grima begged.

The king's face grew white with anger. Whipping his sword up he started to bring it down on the cowering man. Aragorn surged forward.

"No my lord!" He caught the king's hands tightly, struggling against the newfound strength. "No, my lord. Let him go."

Théoden glared at Aragorn.

"Enough blood has been split on his account."

After a tense moment, Théoden lowered his sword. Grima sat up, his unctuous face blank with surprise. Aragorn bent toward him and offered him a hand. Lana frowned when she saw Grima spit at the proffered help.

The worm hastily rose to his feet and pushed his way aggressively through the crowd. "Out of my way!" He shouted, shouldering men and women, old and young alike out of his path.

Aragorn scowled at the man and wiped his hand on his breeches. Then he looked over the citizens of Edoras.

"Hail Théoden King!" He cried in a loud clear voice.

Immediately everyone bent a knee. Aragorn too knelt before the king. Those above bowed their heads in respect. Théoden searched the crowd and then the soldiers around him.

"Where is Théodred?" He asked, bewildered. "Where is my son?"

* * *

_What do you think so far? _

_As always, thank you for reading. _


	25. A Burial

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.**

I make no claims on Tolkien's works. I also give credit to Cormak3032.

* * *

**Chapter 24: A Burial**

Lana moved to stand in front of the copper mirror. Her fingers twisted the soft fabric of the velvet dress she wore, her mind occupied with all that had happened in the last few hours.

She had discovered after probing Aragorn that Théoden had been under the powerful evil of the twisted Saruman. It was the dark wizard's vile magic that had sapped the vitality out of the king. Now free, Théoden moved and thought of his own free will.

The king had learned just this day that his only son and heir had been slain. Killed by the uruk-hai created by Saruman only four days ago. On top of this, he had been tricked into banishing his nephew, Éomer. The Marshal had with him two thousand riders still loyal to Rohan. Their destination was unknown.

The king had left the halls abruptly accompanied by Gandalf and a fair-hair soldier by the name of Gamling. There was a funeral to prepare for. He had left his guests in the capable hands of his niece.

Éowyn had smiled gently at them, but it did not reach her eyes. There was a chill in her blue stare that made Lana curious. The lady led them down the side halls until she brought them to the guest wing. She apologized that nothing had yet been prepared as they had not been expecting visitors.

Aragorn smiled warmly and told her that they were no need to fuss on their account. They had been sleeping on the hard ground in the wilderness for weeks. They would be pleased with any place that was warm and dry.

She brought them to a room that had two beds, explaining that she would have a cot brought in as well. Hot water would be supplied for bathing, and if they wished it, fresh clothes. Supper would be served later that evening, after the funeral.

Aragorn accepted this graciously and surveyed the room. It was simple but comfortable, furnished with Rohirric heraldry. It had one narrow window that faced east, a bureau, a minute copper mirror and a space for a shallow copper tub behind a screen. It would be more than adequate.

Éowyn had then turned to Lana. "We have no additional rooms at the ready, but there is space in mine for a cot."

Lana's eyes had widened at the thought of being separated from her companions. "Thank you, that's very kind, but I'd rather stay here," she said.

Since her arrival in this world, Lana had not spent more than a few hours out of her companions' presence. To suddenly be bereft of their company was unappealing at the moment. Not to mention she was in no mood to deal with frosty court ladies.

However, Aragorn intervened. He pulled Lana aside and took her hands into his own.

"Long have you desired a hot bath, a change of clothes, and a good meal. You shall have all these things with the Lady Éowyn."

"I can have those here as well," she pointed out.

Aragorn smirked slightly. "Aye, but I doubt you would be comfortable bathing while we three are in the room with you." He lifted a brow in question.

Lana had glanced at Legolas then. The elf stood with his arms crossed, his eyes inspecting the room. For once he was unaware of her gaze upon him. Lana flushed hotly at the thought of Legolas watching her bathe. And her heart pounded at the idea of watching him undress…and bathe.

Aragorn had been right. She would _never_ feel comfortable with them in the room. At last, she nodded. Aragorn smiled and guided her back to Éowyn.

"It is settled. Lana will go with you, my lady. She accepts your generous hospitality."

The flaxen-haired woman had nodded, but her gaze lingered on Aragorn for a moment. Then she looked at Lana inquiringly who was observing her with interest as well.

"This way. Please follow me." She had said and brusquely led the way.

Lana had clutched the straps of her blue backpack and followed the reserved woman. She felt her companions' eyes upon her as she left, but she didn't dare look back. She felt awkward under their combined stares.

"You look lovely cleaned up. Your eyes shine like gems."

Lana jumped slightly, her current thoughts shattered by the voice. Lady Éowyn had just returned to the room. Lana turned and gave the woman a genuine smile.

"Thank you. You have been very kind to me." She said politely.

The warm bath had been heaven. Lana had been able to wash thoroughly with lavender soap and sweet smelling oils. Standing in front of the full-length mirror in the borrowed dress, she felt like a woman again.

The dress that Éowyn lent her was not a perfect fit. Lana was taller than Éowyn, and far curvier. And while Éowyn did not look much younger than herself, her own body was far less developed. Malnutrition as a child perhaps? Or was it that there were so many crazy substances and hormones in the food at home that made her feel huge and bloated next to the petite Rohan lady?

Still, Éowyn had managed to find a dress with a suitably long train. It fit Lana like a normal dress, the hem hitting just above the tops of her feet. The gown was a lovely deep green, with golden trimmings. The sleeves belled out generously. They were a bit awkward to move in but Lana didn't mind. Now she actually felt like she fit in this weird fairytale she had found herself in.

She had combed her hair and let it dry to its natural preference of waves. Once dried she had styled it so half was pulled into an elegant bohemian twist held in place with a silver tribal Miao hair-stick. She had been delighted to discover it hidden at the bottom of her cosmetic bag. The rest of her slightly damp tresses fell over her shoulders in generous waves ending in soft natural curls.

Since it was a formal occasion they were attending Lana had also taken the time to sift through her makeup. She noted that Éowyn was mostly devoid of cosmetics, so she was careful to keep hers subtle. She hardly did anything, but she had lined her waterlines in brown, and lightly shaded her eyelids with an iridescent nude color. On her lips, she put a light rose stain. The color would last for the night.

Seeing that Éowyn also wore some fine jewels, Lana had dipped into her own small cache of jewelry. She wore her elegantly carved ivory earrings that were tipped in gold. A necklace with three golden triangles hung at her neck.

All these small keepsakes from home allowed her to feel connected with her world though she may very well not see it again. It was the reason why she refused to part with her makeup or jewelry. Each piece had a story to tell, from the rings on her fingers to the mascara on her lashes. They were meaningful to her beyond mere adornment.

And they helped her feel like a woman again. As for Éowyn, she was adorned in golden jewelry. A diadem meant to look like wildflowers sat in her hair. Tiny jewels embedded in the flowers glittered in the dim light of the room.

"Your companions will not be able to keep their eyes from you," Éowyn teased, but the coolness in her eyes killed the sentiment.

Lana did not reply to the jib. The thought of the others seeing her like this made her suddenly anxious.

"I don't know how to repay you for this kindness. The bath, the dress, and the shoes," she said shoving her discomfort away.

Éowyn held up a pale hand. "'Tis nothing. You and your companions freed my uncle from the foul grip of Saruman. This is the least I could do."

Lana smiled warmly and then sighed. In just a moment they would be going to a funeral. Neither of them wore black.

"I cannot bring myself to wear black," Éowyn had told her earlier. "My cousin never liked the color. He said black was the color the enemy wore." Her blue eyes had looked glassy, but she quickly blinked the tears away.

While bathing Lana had heard Éowyn weeping softly. She had wished she could comfort the woman, but Éowyn had gotten up and left, saying that there were things she must attend to. Now returned, and dressed in dark blue, her golden hair braided around her head and set in place with the golden diadem, Éowyn looked every inch the royalty she was.

"Let us go and see my cousin's body is laid to rest at last."

The two women exited the room and walked down the side halls of Meduseld. The corridors were empty except for a few soldiers who milled about. The Lady of Rohan led her back to the other end of the hall to where the guest rooms were then left her there.

Lana had knocked on the door then turned to study the tapestry across from it. She had decided that the Rohirrim and the Celts of her world had the same tastes when it came to design. The hunting scene was rife with stylized imagery and intricate knot work. She felt a twang of homesickness.

The door creaked open behind her.

"Such a transformation," she heard Aragorn say.

Lana turned smiling dryly at his words. Behind him stood Gimli and Legolas. They all looked refreshed though they wore the same clothes they arrived in. Aragorn approached her first and took one of her hands and brought it to his lips.

"Like a butterfly with newfound wings. The color suits you well, my lady." He finished eloquently.

Lana laughed at his teasing. Blushing she batted him playfully away.

Gimli bowed deeply to her, his loose hair cascaded in long waves down his back. He was not wearing his armor, and although he was short, he still appeared a force to be reckoned with.

"A fairer maiden in Rohan cannot be found I'm sure," he told her.

His words caused her to flush further. "Gimli, please,"

Lana fanned herself with one of her hands. It suddenly felt warm and clammy. It was almost as if it was prom night and she was waiting for her date to arrive while her family preened over her. She was nervous, but there was no reason to be. She had no part to play in this funeral. Lana was a guest, and these were her friends, nothing more.

Silence fell and Aragorn turned to Legolas. The elf had not said a word since they had left their room. The Prince of Mirkwood was standing as still as a marble statue, his eyes not leaving Lana's form.

"Lad?" Gimli prodded.

Legolas blinked and tried to speak, but much to his consternation, his throat was dry. "You look…pretty," he managed very softly.

Lana felt herself starting to sweat and she hated how flustered she was feeling. _This is Legolas…just Legolas._ But instead of calming her, it only made things worse. _Legolas who is a prince, and an elf, and who is looking at me so intensely that I'm going to hyperventilate._

There was no further time to await the elf's full observations as two of the king's guards arrived dressed in full Rohirric armor. They escorted them outside the hall where Gandalf was waiting for them.

Lana finally managed to calm down enough so that she could think normally. She welcomed the stiff breeze that cooled her heated cheeks. As they descended the stone steps, she realized that she felt a stab of disappointment at Legolas' words. _Pretty? That's something you'd say to a child._

She had thought that perhaps she meant a little more to him, but then maybe she had been mistaken. For the time being, she buried her disappointment.

However, Legolas could detect it as he fell into step behind her and the others. The elf was troubled by her feelings, but not nearly as troubled as what the sight of her had done to him. It had been so unexpected. He had experienced a complete loss of words as well as a keen nervousness.

He had not been able to take his eyes off of her. Even now he watched her figure as the form fitting dress now revealed it. He had forgotten how shapely she was. Had she ever looked more beautiful? The green suited her and he was surprised to note that it was _Mirkwood_ green. The revelation sent a barrage of new thoughts racing through is head. These thoughts and feelings both frightened and thrilled him at the same time.

The late afternoon sun was shining brightly on the procession that wound down through the wynds and streets of Edoras. The prince's body was borne up by stout poll-bearers. They were dressed in their finest armor. The entire way was lined with weeping citizens.

Lana moved to walk beside Gimli so she could get a good look at the prince. His skin was pale and stiff with death, but she could see that there had been a handsome quality to his face. The young warrior must have been a sight to behold, and the fancy of all the maidens.

Lana's heart constricted at the sight. She fell in step, following the procession down the streets. Though she did not know the prince or his people her heart wept. She was no stranger to death after all. At home, she had known many young and valiant men who died before their time. What made this one particularly bittersweet was the knowledge that if there had been proper medicine, he might have lived.

The wind picked up as they processed out of the city. Lana's eyes teared up. Past the gates and to the west there was a stretch of land with many tombs. The barrows reminded her once more of the burial practices of the Celts.

Standing to the side, the remaining Fellowship stood behind the first row of mourners. As the prince's body was lowered, the Lady Éowyn lifted her voice in heartbreaking song. A sharp wind pulled at the mourners' clothes and hair, stealing away the song as if taking it to the afterlife.

Lana stood solemnly. Her soul was profoundly affected by the depth of emotion in the lady's voice. Many other women joined in chorus with her, some just mouthing the words, others truly singing.

The prince was then laid in his tomb, and the stone rolled into place.

o0o

Aragorn stood by an intricately carved wooden pillar inside the Golden Hall. He held a goblet of wine, which he sipped slowly. Most of the men were telling stories of how they had fought with their prince. They laughed at the good times and grew solemn at the bad. Aragorn listened with half an ear.

Gandalf and the king were missing. Directly after the funeral ceremony they had gone off alone together. Both had been very quiet. Gandalf was no doubt offering counsel. Gimli was swapping stories of the dwarves for stories of the Rohirrim. He got along well with this warrior race.

As for Lana, she had mingled a little but then pensively removed herself to sit alone at a table. Occasionally she would glance about the room, but she never looked on the left side. And Aragorn thought he knew why.

Legolas was standing over there; arms crossed with his eyes pinned on her. Several times the ladies of Rohan would greet the Mirkwood prince. He always smiled politely at them but quickly returned his focus to Lana.

Clearly, they had yet to reconcile over their latest tiff. Aragorn did not know what caused the row, but it had a markedly different feeling to it. Instead of being standoffish, Lana seemed nervous—as if she was reverting to how she had been at her arrival. With a sigh, he finished his drink and made to intervene. But someone calling his name made him pause.

"My lord?"

Aragorn turned to see the king's niece behind him. Her comely face was awash with concern.

"My lady," he greeted dipping his head politely.

"Was the food not to your liking? You have been standing with naught but a cup of wine all evening." She glanced at his now empty goblet.

Aragorn's brows drew together slightly. Had she been watching him? "I have not sampled the food, but I am certain that it is the finest in the land. I am not hungry at the moment and have chosen to eat later."

Éowyn nodded accepting this as a reasonable reply. "Yes, it is still early. The sun has not yet set." She noted.

Aragorn nodded, and feeling rather awkward in her presence started to move forward again.

"My Lord Aragorn," she called again.

He swung immediately back to her. "Aye, my lady?"

Éowyn glanced directly into his eyes as if searching for something. "The woman that came with you, Lana,"

Silence breathed for a moment between them. He had not expected her to speak of Lana, and suddenly became anxious. "Aye, what of her? I hope she has not caused any trouble."

"Oh, nay, my lord. She has been no trouble at all," The lady was quick to say. "It is only that I am curious. From where does she hail?"

Feeling increasingly disconcerted he thought quickly about what he could say. There was not a chance that he would tell her that Lana came from another world—or time. Even he was still bewildered by that fact, though he seemed to just blindly accept it now. What else could he do?

"That is a question better directed at the Lady Lana," he countered smoothly. He attempted to leave again but Éowyn persisted.

"I would ask her, my lord, but I do not wish to insult her. She speaks oddly—her accent is most strange. Never have I heard the like of it before."

Aragorn inhaled quickly, his mind racing. "She is…from very far away."

"Where? I have studied the lands of Middle Earth extensively."

He fell silent for a moment. This was the king's niece. Of course she would be well versed and educated.

"She is from London," he told her, remembering that Lana had said she had lived in that city. Her other home had been in California, but he did not know the relation between the two lands and dare not say more. As for the Lady Éowyn, she frowned deeply.

"I have never heard of that realm. Is it beyond elvish lands?"

"As I have told you, it is very far away. Not even I know where it lies," he told her truthfully.

The lady's keen eyes continued to pierce as she interrogated him. "How long have you known her?"

"Several months," he replied glancing at Lana. "She is a good woman, and a dear friend to us." He said, returning his focus to Éowyn. "You have been most kind to her, and we are grateful for that. She has not had the company of another woman for far too long."

She smiled softly then. "She is most kind." She said sincerely.

o0o

Legolas was tired of maidens walking up to him. They asked him his name so many times that he lost count. They desired to know if he was elvish and if all elves were as handsome as he. They asked offensively pedantic questions about courting and matrimony.

He was polite to them, but not overly friendly. He was in the midst of observing Lana. He had not the time for silly mortal maidens. Lana still sat at a table by herself. There were people near and all around her, talking, drinking, laughing and commemorating. Not one person sat beside her.

Legolas had watched her as she had socialized a bit earlier but she looked out of place and had sat down on her own. He longed to go to her and keep her company, yet he could not. And this caused him to become angry with himself. Why was he unable to confront her?

He had killed scores of enemies without a single thought, performed public duties in his home as Prince—stood before squadrons and gave speeches, yet a single mortal woman was upset with him and he could not find the courage to approach her!

Making a decision, Legolas moved toward the table only to halt dead in his intended path when a soldier approached Lana. He began to speak with her, smiling as he took her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. The sight made Legolas terribly piqued.

It was not the first time that someone had spoken to her during the course of the feast. But it was the first time a _young_ man had given her any attention.

"Begging your pardon, my lady, but I do not believe I have seen you in Edoras before. Are you distant kin to the King come to visit him?"

Lana looked up at the young soldier. After a moment she recognized him as the guard from the doors who had smiled at her earlier in the day. She recalled his hazel eyes.

He was tall, and broadly built with a full mane of golden hair that most of these people seemed to possess. He sported a short beard that was impeccably groomed. Some women, she considered, would find him handsome.

"I'm not related to the king. I am here to pay my respects with my companions. We are friends of the king." She explained.

The soldier nodded and smiled. "My name is Derngar," he said scooping up her hand and bringing it to his lips. "Welcome to Edoras, my lady."

Lana flushed and felt a strange tingle that made her want to rub her hand on her skirts. She resisted though.

"Ah, thank you. I'm Lana."

Derngar eyed her appreciatively, his lips still curved in an inviting smile. "I desire to speak with you longer, Lady Lana, but I fear that I must attend my duties this hour. Perhaps another time? I hear that you are from a distant land. I would very much like to hear of it," he said with sanguine eyes.

Lana gave him what she hoped was a noncommittal smile. "Perhaps another time." She echoed.

Derngar grinned as if she had bestowed a great gift upon him. He bowed slightly before strolling across the hall to the main doors. Lana watched him go with pursed lips. His intentions were clear as day to her and she had no patience for such antics. She had enough problems to deal with and didn't need an amorous soldier lapping at her heels.

Surreptitiously she pulled both hands under the table and rubbed the hand that he kissed on her skirt. When she turned back around she saw Legolas standing beside her, and her heart jumped.

"May I sit?" He asked quickly, almost urgently.

Snatching her racing breath, Lana frowned at his tone. She had known that he stood nearby all night, and not once had he approached her, much to her disappointment. _But then you could've stop being a coward and approached him yourself, idiot._

Still she found it curious that he was here now—and just after Derngar left too. This piqued her a bit. Her lips thinned.

"The seat's taken." She said firmly and turned to the plate in front of her.

Legolas felt his heart drop into his stomach. She was pushing him away! However, she sighed and patted the space beside her, without glancing at him.

"It's taken by you," she said quietly.

Legolas released the breath he did not realize he was holding, and it came out much louder then he would have liked. Still he hesitated, uncertain if she was sincere in her invitation or not, but then she glanced at him with questioning brow and gestured again to the open bench. Quickly he sat beside her, careful to not crowd her.

An awkward silence grew between them and they sat that way until Legolas could bear it no longer. Motioning toward her still full plate he said, "I would have thought you would have eaten more food than this. Especially since it is not _lembas_," he teased in a hopeful manner.

Lana's lips quirked at his attempt at humor but it did not last. Her fingers played with a small round tomato on her plate. With a sigh she let the vegetable alone.

"I don't have much of an appetite." She revealed.

"Are you ill?" Legolas asked in alarm.

She shook her head. "I ate a little. I'm fine."

She pushed her hair back over her shoulder and exhaled deeply. Then she turned and looked at Legolas directly. His breath caught in his throat. It was the first time she had truly looked at him since the previous evening; the night when things went all wrong and he knew not why.

"I keep thinking about the king and his son," she said in a voice that was huskier than usual.

_"Man trasta le?" What troubles you?_

She looked down sorting her thoughts.

"The prince, he was so young…I've seen far too many young men die in my life already, but…I just can't understand what has happened here. My heart breaks for the king but it finds fault with him as well. How could he have let this happen to his people? To his son? …To him?"

Looking up she spoke with the passion that Legolas had come to expect from her. It was good to see it again.

"It is not fair that his son had to pay the price for his mistakes."

Legolas started to reach over the table for her hand but stopped halfway, afraid that he might frighten her away or make her cross. Instead he said, "War knows nothing of fairness, Cairnmel."

She nodded slowly. The sound of his voice and of her nickname soothed her weary soul.

Legolas could see the affliction in her eyes. She was lost in memories that were not only of today, and now she was floundering in her own sorrows. He had left her sitting alone for far too long.

Rising smoothly without a word, he offered his hand to her. She looked up at him in puzzlement.

_"Tolo a nin,"_ he beckoned. _Come with me._

Realizing that he was offering a chance to escape the halls and her depressing thoughts, she took his hand gratefully. Legolas held her hand and placed it on his arm, and with a soft smile he began to lead her away. They said goodnight to any who acknowledged them, though not many did.

Aragorn paused mid-conversation with Éowyn and watched curiously as Lana and Legolas left the hall together. The lady turned and followed his gaze, and then returned to regard the Ranger. He carried on speaking as if nothing had happened.

o0o

The elf and the mortal woman entered a side hallway, which was already far less crowded than the great hall. Torches in thick metal sconces and candles in heavy candelabras lighted the passageway in intervals. They walked quietly, neither speaking for a long while.

"So many horse motifs," Lana said at last, breaking the silence.

"The people of Rohan thrive on their horses," Legolas told her easily as if they had been speaking for hours. "They are known all over Middle Earth for breeding the best stock."

They walked on, their direction and destination unknown. Soon they found themselves in an empty hallway though the sound of the feast could still be heard.

Lana allowed herself to fully appreciate the rustic beauty of Rohirric craftsmanship. It was something that she found truly beautiful, but it also gave her an easy out to not dwell on the "Problem." However, Legolas was not one to let things go. When the silence again became too much for him he spoke up.

"Cairnmel?"

"Hmm?" She murmured, her eyes inspecting a tapestry closely so that she didn't have to look at the elf behind her. _Coward_.

"We agreed to not hide things from each other, and there is something that I must know," he told her softly.

Lana straightened up but continued to study the pastoral scene on the tapestry. "What is that?"

Legolas moved around to stand at her side. Gingerly he took her hands and turned her to face him. Her deep blue eyes glinted at him with questioning reservation.

"You spoke to a man in the hall…a soldier."

Lana pursed her lips before speaking. "Yeah, what about it?"

Legolas swallowed hard, his hands gripping hers a fraction tighter. "Did you find him…pleasing to look upon?"

Lana froze. She had been feeling fairly comfortable with Legolas up until this point. Now with this single question she felt terribly exposed and uneasy. And she resented the feeling.

"You…you want to know if I'm _attracted_ to him?" She asked in disbelief.

Legolas nodded.

"Why do you want to know that? What does it matter?" She caught herself.

Why did Legolas keep asking her questions like this? She felt bewildered. And now she felt truly angry.

"You were talking to plenty of women," she quipped belligerently, pulling her hands away and crossing her arms under her breast. "What does one man matter?" She flicked a brow.

"They were silly girls asking their silly questions," Legolas replied.

"Were you attracted to any of them?" Lana probed, throwing his question right back at him.

He shook his head, his long blond hair sliding down his lean shoulders. "They meant nothing to me."

He moved forward but Lana immediately stepped back. Legolas felt a stab in his heart from the action. However her face softened after a heartbeat.

"Only one woman caught my attention this night," he whispered. "And she sat alone with troubled thoughts for far too long."

Lana cast her eyes down. With a sigh pinched the bridge of her nose before speaking again.

"Why does it matter to you if I was attracted to him or not?" She asked directly. "He was just a man." She gestured as if it was all nothing.

Legolas went still pondering her question. _"Ú-istan,"_ he answered after coming up with no logical reason for his feelings. "I only know that I desired the answer."

Forcing herself to calm down Lana bit back a tart remark. This was like last night when he had asked her about Eric. Legolas was clearly confused, not to mention rather naïve when it came to relationships. Part of her wondered at that, but set it aside. Taking a breath she held his gaze.

"Legolas, you're my friend and I'm yours right?"

"Aye."

"And do you trust me?"

He pulled back as if the question had burned him. "Of course I trust you," he told her, and Lana realized that the question had offended him.

"And I trust you," she told him firmly.

_"Maer,"_ he replied, relieved.

She nodded, unsure of where to go next with their conversation. His anguish was palatable to her. He was in pain over this and probably from her ridiculously childish behavior. The urge to sooth him made her reach out and touch his cheek. He closed his eyes at the caress.

"Then please don't trouble yourself with questions of loyalty."

Legolas opened his eyes and was about to speak but Lana silenced him by placing a finger against his lips.

"No man is ever going to take your place." She peered deeply into his eyes as she spoke the words. "You're my best friend and that will never change."

Her eyes then looked down before she continued.

"I've been acting really foolishly because I was confused. I was behaving childishly." She forced herself to meet his gaze and found that he was staring at her intently. "I'm not going to let that happen again. It was wrong of me. I pushed you away because I was scared and confused, and it hurt me—_and_ you. And it did more damage than it did any good. And I am sorry for it."

Legolas caught her hand that started to withdraw from his face and repositioned it over his heart. It was pounding steadily beneath his chest.

"I caused you to feel this confusion. I caused you to feel uncomfortable in my presence." Legolas said softly and with great misery. Lana shook her head negatively, but he persisted. "Aye, I did. I bid you, please tell me what it was so that I may never repeat that action again." He covered her hand with both of his, holding it above his heart.

"I know not how it happened but you have come to mean much to me in such a short time," he continued. "I know not how to explain how I feel other than pain when we are apart and joy when we are together. I would never intentionally harm you," he told her earnestly.

His heartfelt sincerity combined with the urgency in his tone made Lana's eyes mist over.

"I know you wouldn't," she whispered so softly that even Legolas' acute elven ears had to strain to hear her words.

He dared to cup her face and she allowed it. Lana closed both her eyes and leaned into his touch. When her eyes opened again they were clear. His heart soared at seeing her soft smile.

"That's how friendship goes though, right? You miss each other when you're apart and you enjoy each other's company when you're together. Sometimes you hurt each other, but you have the power to heal each other too."

"Aye," Legolas said softly.

His fingers brushed back the deep golden waves that hung in her face. In the light of the torches, her hair looked a fiery golden red. It made her blue eyes even bluer. His spirit was filled with joy when she didn't pull away from his touch.

"Then let's leave the past where it is. I was confused and uncomfortable, but not because of anything that you did. It was because I jumped to conclusions about things I shouldn't have. I promise to try not to do that again."

Lana realized she had done just that. Legolas was not like the men from home. It was abundantly clear to her now that he loved her, but as a dear friend. And she now understood that she felt the same. If the future presented another path for them, then she would deal with that road when they came to it. For now, she silently vowed that she would not make assumptions again, nor push him away, for it only served to hurt them both.

_"Goheno nin?"_ She asked meekly. _Forgive me?_

"Of course."

Her smile deepened and Legolas felt his heart beat faster. He entwined his fingers with hers, which was still held against his chest. Lowering his other hand from her hair, he tugged her gently to him. She came unresisting and laid her head against his shoulder. She was of a perfect height, he reflected as he rested his chin upon her head.

The uneasiness between them was gone; dissolved by their open honesty. Now they both felt content and cherished. They embraced each other for a short while savoring the moment. Legolas was thankful that no one entered the hallway to interrupt them.

He relished the feel of her heart beating against his chest, and her unique scent, now flavored with lavender—undoubtedly from her bath. He stroked the back of her head lightly, marveling at all the shades of gold in her hair. Unlike his pale monochrome color, hers was like a golden sheet shot through with silvery gold all the way to rich honey brown.

He wondered if the reddish tones he now discovered were due to the firelight or if they were truly there. Feeling her stifling a yawn he drew back reluctantly.

"You are weary." Tucking one of her hands into his arm he said, _"Tolo._ I shall walk you to your room." _Come_.

Lana did not protest. It had been a long day and she was tired. All the stress from travel, and cares of the soul had worn her out. She had hardly eaten that day but still did not feel hungry. Tomorrow she would be voracious, but mentally she shrugged.

The two of them walked in silence, but this time is was the comfortable kind shared between those who are close. They remained quiet until they reached the doorway to Éowyn's chambers.

_"Losto mae,_ Cairnmel." Legolas told her. _Sleep well._

Lana smiled, taking Legolas fully in, and feeling the warmth of his fingers that were now intertwined with hers. She wondered how she could ever ignore or be angry at such a being. If ever there was a Prince Charming, this was he.

"You as well," she said, and then teased lightly. "And make sure you actually _sleep_ for once."

His lips curved. "Aye, my lady." He squeezed her hand affectionately.

As she started to move away, Legolas felt a deep regret at having to part from her after so soon making up. Her fingers slipped from his and loss inexplicably filled him. It made no sense, but he couldn't ignore it either.

Deliberately Lana opened her door and stepped into the room. The elf watched intently as if burning her image into his mind. She smiled at him, which made his heart race, and she began to close the door.

It was nearly shut, just a breath from being completely closed, when it suddenly stopped. Legolas felt his breath catch in his throat. Lana smiled warmly at him in such a way that it made his blood race throughout his body.

"The answer to your question," she said coyly. "Is no."

* * *

_Thoughts? _

_As always, thank you for reading. _


	26. Misconceptions

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story. **

I make no claim to Tolkien's works_._ I also give credit to Cormak3032.

Thank you for sending so many kind reviews. A couple notes on this chapter - I've commandeered two words from the author, Elven Lady of Ithilien, which are _fëaveryala_ and _hröaveryala. _These are explained in the chapter, but I wanted to give her the credit for the creation of those words. And I highly recommend you read her story _Love's Redemption. _(Sadly it is unfinished.)

Also, there is a quote from Shakespeare in this chapter. Credit belongs to him. You'll know it when you see it! ;)

Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 25: Misconceptions of a Refugee Heart**

Gimli shuffled along behind his companions. He did not want them to see how exhausted he truly was. But it was apparent in the slumped set of his shoulders and the muted gleam in his eyes. They had traveled far all morning until midday, had dealt with problematic advisers, and dispatched unloyal servants to the throne. Then they had attended a heart-wrenching funeral followed by a feast in honor of the king's fallen son.

And the day hadn't finished there.

It was during the time when Gandalf and Théoden were alone by Théodred's grave that the most unexpected visitors had arrived. Two children: a brother and a sister. Hungry, exhausted beyond belief and frightened by what they had seen. They brought with them the terrible news—the Westfold was burning—attacked by Wild Men.

Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli had stayed in the hall to learn what had happened and await the king's decision. Would they go to war or retreat? The Lady Éowyn had told her uncle that this was not an isolated incident. All during his mindless zombification, Théoden's country had been ravaged. His people cried out to their king, but nothing was done.

He had been tricked into banishing his greatest warriors and allies. The weight of all this news combined with his son's death left the king weary of heart—and of mind.

Gimli was weary too, and he heaved a great sigh. "The day has been long. I'm anxious to recline on my cot," he said, filling the quiet. "It may be a long time ere I have such a comfort again."

Aragorn took a puff of his pipe and he nodded. While he was used to traveling from place to place, being a Ranger from the north, he did not shirk the small comforts when they came.

"There is no reason that you cannot have the bed, Gimli," Legolas offered. "I have little use for it. And I am not weary." The elf said as his mind was invigorated.

Gimli had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. He had never believed in the endless stamina of elven-folk until he had met Legolas. But the lad seemed to have more energy than he knew what to do with. And now it appeared that his mind was quite chipper—meaning that he had most likely made up with the lass.

Still Gimli shook his head and held up his gloved hands. "No, no. The cot will do me just fine. I plan to move it to the darkest corner of the room and have a deep sleep."

Legolas smirked to himself. If the dwarf had a deep sleep than no one else would receive any rest due to his thunderous snoring.

Upon reaching their doorway, Aragorn turned the handle and held it open for the others. Then he moved to take a seat on the windowsill to finish his pipe. For the first time since Lothlórien they let their guard down. Gimli, as he said he would, pulled the cot into the corner and sat upon it. With a sigh he rubbed his tired eyes.

Legolas washed his face and hands in a small washbasin that had been provided. The water was icy cold but it felt refreshing.

"Someone should tell Lana what will happen tomorrow," he suggested as he dried his face with a clean cloth.

Aragorn exhaled a stream of smoke before answering him. "She is surely sleeping by now. She retired hours ago. There is no harm in her learning on the morrow."

Legolas nodded, though inwardly he felt thwarted. He had hoped to see her even though he knew Aragorn was most likely right. He inspected as the Ranger as the man reclined on the windowsill. For once, he looked wholly weary. And he was not trying to hide any of it now. The elf knew that Aragorn had much on his mind.

Aragorn's disappointment in King Théoden was obvious to Legolas, but there was nothing that he nor the Ranger could do. The king had made his decision. There was nothing that would dissuade Théoden from his chosen path. It frustrated the man.

Gimli gave a heavy sigh of relaxation as he stretched out on his cot. His eyes were heavy with sleep and they slipped closed immediately. Moments later he was snoring away. Legolas' lips quirked hearing the racket.

He remained by the armoire, arms loosely crossed, his mind in another place. He did not know how much time had passed when Aragorn asked mutely, "I gather that you have reconciled with Lana?"

He turned a smile to the Ranger. "Aye."

Aragorn held his pipe with his teeth as he drew one knee against his chest. Then removing it, he held it idly between his fingers.

"You both forgive and forget rather quickly." He lifted a curious brow at the elven prince.

"We are able to speak and resolve matters with haste. I would have it no other way." Legolas replied.

Aragorn nodded. He said no more, his eyes focused again on the darkening sky beyond the window. Silver stars flickered like many thousands of lamps. The vault of heaven quickly turned from deep indigo to black. The man's eyes searched the stars as if seeking answers to unvoiced questions. Then tapping the ashes out of his finished pipe he rose and closed the window. When he reclined on his bed, Legolas perceived a bittersweet melancholy emanating from the man. However, he did not wish to pry into the Ranger's thoughts. A short while later, Aragorn removed his boots and lay on the mattress.

Legolas remained in the center of the room. He felt far too anxious to rest. He waited a short while but when the restlessness did not leave him he slipped silently from the room. He did not know where he was going as he roamed the quiet dimness of the halls. Walking seemed to help his restiveness.

As he moved into one section of the corridor he halted sensing someone close by. On alert, he turned the corner. There at the end of the hall standing by an open window was a cloaked figure. He narrowed his eyes to focus on the silhouette. Surprise jolted through him as he realized it was Lana.

Dressed in a linen nightgown and gray cloak, she leaned against the window frame. Her left hand rested on the casing, her fingers idly tapping a rhythm on the wood. Turned as she was toward the view she did not notice Legolas. He frowned. What was she doing up at this late hour roaming the halls?

Legolas took the opportunity to observe her unobtrusively for several moments before he stepped close and cleared his throat.

Lana gasped and swore aloud. "Theodore-fucking-Roosevelt!"

She whirled and pressed a hand to her chest. Seeing him, she sagged against the windowsill. "Good grief, Legolas! You scared the life right out of me!" She panted but laughed a bit breathlessly.

_"Goheno nin."_

She waved his apology away. "What are you doing wandering the halls?"

Legolas cocked his head. "The same could be asked of you."

Pulling her cloak around her, she closed the small distance between them. "I tried to sleep, but…well, I think I dozed a bit, but I just couldn't fall asleep. I'm unfamiliar with the room, and it was too quiet." She smirked self-deprecatingly. "I'm ashamed to admit it, but I'm used to Gimli's snoring. It lulls me to sleep now."

She shook her head, her unbound hair sliding over her slender shoulders. Then she looked at him keenly.

"What are you doing awake at such a late hour? Didn't I tell you to rest?" She poked a finger in his chest.

He smiled down at her. "I was not weary. I felt that perhaps a walk might clear my mind."

Tilting her head like a cat, she studied him thoroughly. He could sense her mind working, trying to figure out what had kept him awake.

"What have you been thinking about?" She finally asked.

"You," he replied in a low voice.

Her cheeks flushed, rather prettily he thought. She ducked her head unable to meet his gaze now. But then she peeked up at him through the hair that had fallen in her eyes.

"Me too…but about you."

The smile that bloomed on his face was warm like a comforting mug of tea on a cold morning. His light blue eyes seemed to glow even as his heart lifted, buoyed up—as it were—on a cloud of delight.

"Have you heard the news?" He asked, switching subjects.

"What news?"

"King Théoden's decision. Aragorn does not agree with it."

"Oh! Yeah—about tomorrow," she exclaimed remembering.

Legolas nodded.

"Yes. Éowyn told me about it when she came in for bed. She also told me about the children and all the attacks." The humor on her face was replaced by a solemn look. "It's absolutely horrible. Éowyn was very upset—I thought she might break something."

"She has every right to feel thusly. Saruman is killing and pillaging her people. Tomorrow we leave for Helm's Deep."

Her nose wrinkled into a moue of unfortunate displeasure. "I was just staring to get comfortable here."

Legolas tilted his head and smirked. "Not so comfortable if you are roaming the halls alone at night."

She shrugged. "I was just a little restless, that's all. In a few days, I would have settled in just fine. It's not a bad place, this Edoras." Her smile returned easily. She spoke as if she was describing a fine inn.

Legolas chuckled at her nonsense, then looked directly into her eyes. _"Dartho ah amen,"_ he offered. "I have a bed that I will not be sleeping in. It will be more comfortable than the cot you were laying on." _Stay with us._

Lana shook her head quickly. "I don't want to intrude, Legolas." She well recalled getting practically kicked out of the room earlier. Valid reasons not withstanding!

"You will not be." He smiled. "I promise."

"Aren't Aragorn and Gimli going to mind me being there? I mean it's late." She reminded him.

"They are both sleeping. Nor will they mind. You should not have been separated from us to begin with." He added quietly.

Lana thought about it for a moment, and then rather curiously her cheeks turned rosy once more. Legolas wondered why and lifted a brow at her. She cleared her throat.

"Are you _sure_ they won't mind?" She persisted.

He had to grin. "I am sure. _Tolo."_ He offered a hand to her, and she took it without hesitating. _Come_.

She was wearing her odd shoes with the soles made of that substance she called "rubber." They made soft sounds like crickets on the wooden floors as they traversed the halls back to his shared room. Legolas glanced at her. His lips quirked at all the noise she was making. She caught the look and nearly broke into a fit of giggles, but quickly stifled herself. Neither spoke, not knowing if they might disturb someone with their mirth.

Reaching the door, they entered the shared room cautiously. Nothing moved and only Gimli's snoring was heard. Legolas closed the door behind them with a soft click. It was dim. The fire had been banked, and only a few embers glowed. Gimli's heavy slumber covered any noise they might have made. Aragorn was reclining on his bed, an arm thrown carelessly over his eyes.

Lana had the distinct feeling of being a teenager sneaking around her parents. She had not been invited stay in this room the first time. While Aragorn had presented an extremely logical reason as to why she still felt a bit off kilter being away from her companions. Yet tiptoeing around didn't make her unease any better. She bit her lip trying to be as silent as possible.

Legolas guided her to his bed and she sat upon it. Right away a smile bloomed on her face. The wool-stuffed mattress was so much softer than the pile of blankets on her canvas cot.

_"Losto,_ Cairnmel." Legolas beckoned. _Sleep_.

Lana glanced down at the bed, and then at him. "What about you?" She whispered.

"I will not sleep this night, even if I rest upon the bed," he whispered back.

It was the truth. He had been edgy much of the evening. His mind would not allow him respite.

Lana however, frowned deeply at this. "What do you plan on doing? Standing around and watching everyone else sleep?"

"Aye," he shrugged carelessly.

Immediately she shook her head and stood up with arms crossed.

"The bed is large enough. I'm only going to stay if you rest." She threatened in undertone. "This is your bed, and I don't want you to be without a place to sleep should you grow tired later."

Legolas opened his mouth to speak, but Lana silenced him with a single bullying look. He grinned openly at her display. She knew quite well that he wished for her to stay. And she was also highly aware that in threatening him like she just had, he would be forced to agree to her demand.

Shaking his head with a muted chuckle, he said, "Very well. If my resting comforts you then I shall."

She smiled victoriously and sat down on the mattress again.

Legolas removed his weapons with great care and laid them directly beside the bed. They would be easily within reach should there be trouble. Next he took off his cloak and folding it neatly, he set it on the bureau. Finally, he sat on the right side of the bed. Leaning up against the headboard he stretched out his long legs, crossing them at the booted ankles.

"Now I am resting," he informed her smartly. "So, you shall remain."

She laughed in her chest and then toed her shoes off. Peeling back the covers she slipped underneath and lay on her side facing Legolas. She started off near the edge of the bed, leaving a generous amount of space between them. While she had lain with Legolas on the ground out in the wilds before, sleeping on a bed together felt significantly more intimate.

Legolas smiled softly as he watched her eyes grow heavy with sleep_. "Losto. Berion le." Sleep, I will protect you._

Her lips curved and she dared to scoot a bit closer to him. Not long after she relaxed completely as sleep claimed her. Legolas watched her for some time. For a long while he observed the gentle rise and fall of her body as she breathed. She shifted once, becoming even more comfortable and closer to him, though now she was on her back.

He could feel the heat of her body from where she lay and it comforted him to know that she was safe and near. He had not realized that being separated from her, even for a short time, would cause him to miss her so much. It was nonsensical really, but now that she was here he felt himself relax.

Her rich golden hair was spread out in darkened waves over her shoulders and pillow. It glinted faintly in the dim glow of the banked fire. Fissions of red ran like hidden sparks in the golden net. He reached out with began to run his long fingers through the strands, cautiously at first then with more boldness when she didn't stir. Only now he realized that touching her hair was becoming a habit: one that he had no intention of giving up.

He smiled as the scent of her drifted to his nose. Lavender scented oil clung to her hair and skin mingling with that uniquely spicy-sweet scent that she always had. Legolas knew that she must be very happy to have bathed.

Lana was strange for a mortal. She enjoyed bathing and keeping clean and tidy much like the elves did—and unlike most humans. His smile grew as he recalled that she was not of this world and that was why she was most likely different.

His smile faded when he sensed a disconcerting emotion in the room. It did not radiate from Lana nor Gimli, but from Aragorn who lay on his bed just a few feet away. Legolas peered at the Ranger and saw that he was no longer sleeping, but very much awake. His gray eyes were focused on the elf and Lana.

Legolas froze, his fingers still in Lana's hair. He had the distinct feeling being caught doing something that he clearly shouldn't have been doing.

"I can feel your disapproval from here," the elf stated softly.

"Not disapproval. Surprise at seeing her, perhaps." Aragorn paused. "You sought her."

There was nothing accusatory in his tone but Legolas felt the need to defend himself.

"Not intentionally," he replied honestly. "I went for a walk to clear my mind and she was in the hall gazing out an open window."

Aragorn sat up slowly, gazing at Lana's serene face. She lay close to Legolas' body, her cheek pressed into the pillow on the bed. Her long hair looked almost dark in the dimness of the room. But it spread all around her like a gleaming cloak. Legolas' fingers were buried in its wavy thickness.

The Ranger exhaled loudly and looked away. A feeling of loss permeated the air and suddenly Legolas understood.

"You miss the Evenstar," he murmured astutely.

The man said nothing for a long moment, but then he finally spoke. "Lana reminds me of her at times, though they are not alike. But…in some ways…her presence occasionally reminds me of what I have lost."

Hearing this Legolas' brows drew together. "You have lost nothing. She waits in Imladris for you."

Aragorn shook his head. "Nay. I bid her go to the Havens. I attempted to give her back the pendant."

"But you did not for it still hangs at your throat," Legolas told him, glancing at the jewel that peeked through the gap in the Ranger's shirt.

Unconsciously Aragorn touched the pendant. The metal was cool under his fingers. "She would not accept it."

"And you know the reason why she would not," Legolas replied quietly so as not to awaken Lana. "Do you truly believe that she will leave? You know how she feels about you. You were raised by the _Eldar_, Estel. You know that once we love we cannot simply stop." He paused holding the man's gaze with certainty. "She will wait."

Aragorn grimaced slightly. "How can you be so certain?" He asked, still not daring to hope.

"I have seen you two together," Legolas told him. "I have seen the love you hold for each other in your eyes." He glanced down, his gaze falling on Lana for a moment. Then he looked back to Aragorn. "She will wait."

The man sighed, his mind and heart in conflict with each other. Then there was the war loomed over them like a dark plague; Frodo and Sam were miles from his reach; and Arwen… He loved her so much—worshipped her even. And her love was constant, but… The Ranger laid back down, turning his back to Legolas, attempting to sleep again.

The elf watched as his friend hastily turned over. He could sense many things emanating from Aragorn: loss, pain, distress, fear, and lastly, hope. Truly, he was named well: Estel. _Hope_.

Soon everything was still once more. Legolas watched Lana dream, mesmerized by the peaceful tranquility on her face. All around him, his companions slept serenely. He could not remember the last time he had taken a deep rest. With a contented sigh, he thought perhaps now would be as good a time as any. His wayward thoughts had settled with all his companions now beside him.

It could not have been more than a few moments before an urgent knocking made him stir. His eyes immediately focused on his surroundings when he heard someone at the door again.

Aragorn also woke instantly and moved quickly to see what was so urgent. He swung the door open and there stood the Lady Éowyn, with a candle in one hand and her balled fist in midair, about to knock again.

"My lord," she greeted in a soft but anxious tone.

She was dressed in a long dark robe that covered whatever sleeping garments she wore. Speaking rapidly, she looked at Aragorn with distressed eyes.

"Forgive me; I know that the hour is dreadfully late and that you were all probably sleeping, but I am terribly worried. I cannot find the Lady Lana. She and I spoke this evening while I readied for bed. She was upon her cot when I fell asleep but now she is gone! I have searched the halls, the throne room, the kitchens, and the—"

Aragorn held up a hand, silencing her panicked catalog. "There is no need to be worried. Lady Lana is quite safe."

He stepped aside so that Éowyn could see into the room. She looked and saw Lana laying beneath the covers next to the elf in deep repose. Legolas looked up at Éowyn and smiled faintly in acknowledgment.

"She is here," the lady sighed in relief.

"Aye," Aragorn answered. "Legolas found her out in the hall and invited her here. She is safe and well. We appreciate your concern and I apologize for the trouble."

"It was no trouble. She is safe and that is what matters." She said, but Aragorn could see the lady's mind working. What ever she thought she quickly hide behind a thin smile that was a degree warmer than her usual wont. It unsettled the Ranger a bit.

"Aye," he agreed, and then, "The hour is late and we all have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

"You are quite right, my lord. Good night." Éowyn curtsied surprisingly elegantly, despite the robe.

Nodding, Aragorn closed the door after the lady departed. He sighed and sat on the edge of his bed rubbing his face. The stubble on his cheeks rasped against his palms. He looked upon Lana and then Legolas.

"I did not mean to worry Lady Éowyn," Legolas said lowly.

Aragorn sighed. _"Istan." I know._

Lana had shifted the Ranger saw and was now curled up against Legolas' side. The man exhaled again and ran a hand through his unruly hair.

"It is late. We should rest." He stated again.

Legolas nodded and watched as his friend lay down once more to sleep. Some time later, after running his fingers repetitively through Lana's hair once again, the prince fell into a light elvish slumber—his eyes open in sleep instead of closed.

o0o

Awareness came gradually to Lana. But once her mind was conscious there was no stopping it from starting up its usual racing. Resisting she burrowed further under the covers before yawning. Her jaw popped softly with the inhalation. She couldn't remember the last time she had slept so well. At last she opened her eyes. Legolas was sitting there on the edge of the bed. A torpid smile curled the corners of her lips.

"Good morning," she greeted groggily.

He looked warmly down at her. "I was wondering when you were going to awaken."

Her own smile widened as she arched slightly under the blankets, easing motion back into her stiff muscles. "I haven't slept that well in a long time. Besides, if given a choice, I'd sleep in every day."

As if to prove her point, she scooted down further under the covers. Legolas laughed softly at her silliness. Grinning she pulled the blankets away from her face.

"I heard you and Aragorn talking last night," she said, becoming more alert.

One of Legolas' brows rose. He had been certain that she was sleep. "And what did you hear?"

Sitting up against the headboard she looked into his eyes. "Who's the Evenstar?"

Legolas smiled and raised a hand, brushing back Lana's unruly hair. It floated around her head like an ecstatic halo. His fingers lingered.

"She is the daughter of the Lord of Rivendell; often called the Evenstar of our people for she resembles her several times great-grandmother, Lúthien. She is the youngest of Elrond's children, but the most beautiful. And she is in love with Aragorn, and he with her."

Lana absorbed this first with surprise and then thoughtfulness. "And she is an elf?"

"Aye."

She fell silent for a moment, thinking. "I hadn't realized that Aragorn had a lover." Her brows drew together then. "He's never spoken of her."

Legolas gazed into Lana's deep blue eyes. "Sometimes it is the things we do not speak of that are most dear to our hearts," he said, not yet understanding then the truth of those words. "There are a great many things that Aragorn speaks not of. But he loves Arwen deeply; yet he fears that she will sail West because he bid her to."

"And you think she will stay?"

Legolas nodded and suddenly recalling that his hand was still resting in her hair, removed it. "I believe she will. But I do not have the gift of foresight."

Lana tilted her head, studying the elf before her with a new interest. She ran over all the questions he had asked her over the last few days. She decided it was time to do some questioning of her own

"Have you ever been in love, Legolas?" She asked softly.

He studied her as his mind recalled one whom he thought he loved. But that had been nothing more substantial than deep caring and admiration for a friend, and perhaps some small measure of infatuation.

"Nay, I have never been in love."

Agog, Lana blinked. _"Ever?"_

He chuckled lightly. "Ever. I love my family, and I love my friends, but I have never experienced the great love that songs and tales speak of, or that my friends and family have known." His tone ended with a tang of bittersweet sadness to it.

The image of the Captain of Mirkwood floated to mind, but she had not loved him, and he had come to realize that his affections for her were not of the lasting kind. Although they now remained close friends that was all it would ever be between them.

Lana cocked her head. "But you're nearly three thousand years old," she said, not comprehending him.

She looked him over thoroughly, her mind unable to fathom that in all that time he had never loved anyone.

"Aye, but that does not change things. I still have not loved a woman." He looked at her directly. "Love is a serious emotion to the elves. We normally love but once. It is a sacred gift."

"Wow! Really? Only once? But what if things don't work out?"

Her own parents had made that mistake. Their marriage lasted a whole of ten years. The only reason they stuck it out that long was for Aidan and herself.

Did elves have divorces? She assumed it would be highly frowned upon since love was so seemingly precious to them.

"There are rare times when there is an ill choice made, and each goes their separate way, but this is extremely uncommon. I have never known it to happen.

"It is said that an elf will know when he's found the One—their _fëa_-mate. There is a feeling that they cannot ignore." He reached out a finger to trace the hand nearest him. It was a casual touch that was soothing to both of them.

"So how do you find the One? Do you just look at an elf and know?"

_"Ellyn_ and _ellyth_ court until the find the right partner."

Subconsciously Lana turned her hand over and idly toyed with the fingers that were tracing hers. "What's elvish courting like then?"

"After there is an interest between two elves, there is the introduction between families." Legolas explained. "Then there are numerous walks and talks. Often the _ellon_ will ask his lady to accompany him to any number of social events—feasts or dances. This way they can enjoy each other's company and it is an opportunity to show others that they are courting.

"It is a simple routine echoed by all. If they fall in love they will marry, and if they do not, then they will go their separate ways."

Lana nodded. Their hands became still as they interlaced fingers. "That's not too different from my people. Did you ever court anyone?" She asked with burning curiosity.

He grimaced and nodded. "I courted two _ellyth_ many years ago. My king asked it of me…and I attempted, but it was in vain." He grinned self-deprecatingly. "I was more interested in archery than in courting at the time." He laughed.

Lana smiled. "Ah, somehow I can see that perfectly," she teased. "So, what are elvish marriages like? Do you have a ceremony?"

"So many questions!" He teased back.

"I'm sorry—I'm just so _curious!_ I've been traveling with you for a few months now, and I still don't really know anything about your people or your customs."

He smiled and squeezed her hand. "In time, you will learn, just as you have begun to learn one of our languages." It pleased him very much that she wished to learn about his people.

"Elven marriages go in stages. There is the betrothal, which traditionally lasts a year. Then there is a formal ceremony where the couple plights their troth before Eru Ilúvatar and the Valar. This event family and friends are invited to attend. There is feasting and dancing which can last well into several days although the couple usually doesn't stay that long. Then there is the _fëaveryala_ and the _hröaveryala_, which is a private event between the two lovers."

Lana cocked her head. "The what and what now? Fi-fi-ever…"

_"Fëa-ve-ryala,"_ Legolas repeated slowly for her.

"What is that? And the other one, which I'm not even going to try to pronounce." She flashed him a wry grin.

Legolas smiled, but his cheeks began to heat. Absentmindedly he began stroking the inside of her palm with his fingers. An electric feeling raced through her, and Lana's skin pricked with goosebumps.

"The _fëaveryala_ and _hröaveryala_ are the private marriage." He explained in a low voice, his eyes looking down now instead of into her eyes. "It is when the two lovers go off alone to join spiritually and…physically."

Lana flushed at the words. Suddenly it felt altogether too warm in the room. However, much to her surprise, Legolas was also blushing. His usually alabaster skin was rapidly turning red. As embarrassed as she felt she couldn't help but smile at the sight of his ears turning pink.

"Ah," she breathed.

"Aye…" Legolas replied very softly.

He continued to stare at their joined hands, his fingers making patterns on her palm.

A sudden realization struck Lana. _This_ was why Legolas had asked if she had been engaged. When she had recounted her history she had mentioned that she was not a virgin prior to her captivity. Then she had told him about Eric…

She did not think anything of it at the time, assuming that Legolas, being as handsome and charming as he was, would have had plenty of lovers in his time. But this was clearly not the case.

Her heart stopped.

If he had never loved anyone in his lifetime, that means that he had been never engaged, and by elvish customs that meant he had never _made_ love to anyone before.

_Oh my...he's…_

Right away her mind betrayed her by conjuring images of what he would look like in a dark room with candlelight dancing over his nude body; his long blond hair loose and flowing over his archer's shoulders. The temperature in the room escalated to unbearable heights and Legolas felt far too close.

She peeped up at him and was relieved that he was still gazing down, watching his fingers stroke her hand.

Then an old ugly feeling returned to her. _I am damaged._ Not only had her captors raped her, but she had given herself _freely_ well before that. Seen through his eyes, she must be undesirable—impure. Compared to him, she was no better than a harlot, she thought depressingly.

What did he even see in her as a friend?

And that's precisely all she would ever be. His friend. Without her consent her lips trembled with barely restrained disappointment. If pure virginal Legolas had not loved anyone in three thousand years, it was highly unlikely he that he could ever love someone like her.

Only yesterday she had assumed that he was falling in love with her, but clearly that was not the case. It seemed that she still had a lot to learn about elves and their emotions.

While in some ways this put her at ease—for she was still not ready to commit her heart to anyone, she told herself stubbornly—it also upset her.

One day she would be ready. She hoped that she could find a man who could love her despite her flaws, and many foibles. The fear, the degradation, and the pain she felt from her imprisonment and then Eric's walking out on her would fade.

_Is fading—it _is_ fading._

She knew then that she would like very much to find someone similar to Legolas. In fact, the idea of loving Legolas and him loving her was not the frightening concept it had been yesterday or the day before.

He had successfully made himself her Prince Charming. Now he even had the white horse! Her knight in shining armor—her golden light—her Aureos. He was everything she could want in a man, but never found. Except that Legolas had never loved anyone. And if he had not loved in all his long years, then she was sure as hell not naïve enough to believe that he would fall for _her_.

_I am dirty…undeserving…_

Without prompting a line from Shakespeare's infamous _Hamlet_ exploded into her brain. _'Lord Hamlet is a prince, out of thy star; This must not be:'_

"I sense disappointment. And great sorrow. What troubles you?"

Startled from her thoughts by his voice, Lana glanced up to find Legolas' light eyes studying her face. He was concerned. Unable to hold that gaze she diverted her eyes to their entwined fingers. She withdrew her hand folded it under the covers. Her heart clenched. There wasn't a chance in hell or hades that she would tell him what was really on her mind.

"I…I wish my people could be more like yours. Not much is sacred anymore." She covered smoothly. She gave him a faint sad smile.

Legolas dipped his head slightly, recalling her brief mention of her former lover who had abandoned her during her greatest time of need. It was a heartrending situation. His spirit wept for her many sorrows.

Feeling the need to get some space, Lana scooted to the opposite edge of the bed and rose. His presence was more than she could handle now.

"I should go get dressed and start packing."

Legolas nodded slowly and got to his feet. Was it his imagination or did she suddenly seem uneasy in his presence again? He hoped that it was his imagination.

"May I escort you to your room?" He inquired solicitously.

Lana shook her head. "I think I can find my own way, besides I'm sure the others will want to speak with you before things get hectic." She rambled quickly. "I'll see you later?"

He nodded, feeling a little disappointed. He watched her turn to go and a strange feeling that he could not explain settled over him. Lana made to walk out of the room, but then she was rooted just in front of the door. Legolas watched her attentively, wondering why she remained when she had just told him that she was going to leave.

His breath caught as she turned and looked over her shoulder at him. Her deep blue gaze held his captive. _Does she know how spellbinding her eyes are?_ He stared back at her, his heart picking up as she stepped back to him.

Her lips curved curiously, and he looked down at her in confusion. He could not tell what she was feeling for he couldn't understand the myriad of emotions that radiated from her.

Then to his very great surprise, she lifted on tiptoe and pressed her lips against his cheek. Quickly she lowered to her heels, and before he could do anything she was gone. Legolas watched the door close, speechless. He did not go and join his companions just yet. Instead he remained right where he was standing.

Deliberately he raised one hand to his face and touched his cheek. It had been a gentle and quick kiss, but it had made his heart race as if it had been full of passion.

Glancing at the closed door through which she had just departed, he smiled brightly. The day had started off well. He hoped that it would end equally as well.

* * *

_Thoughts? I always enjoy hearing from you!_

_As always, thanks for reading._


	27. Mixed Signals

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.**

I make no claims on Tolkien's works. I also give credit to Cormak3032.

* * *

**Chapter 26: Mixed Signals**

Outside the sun shone brightly. The ever-present sharp wind plucked impishly at skirts, cloaks, and ran its fingers through unbound hair. Lana stood nearby the stables and watched the flurry of activity.

Edoras was to empty. Completely. The denizens were to make for the ancient stone fortress of Helm's Deep. Stalwart soldiers were herding the old and young, men, women, and children alike. The roiling populous made it next to impossible to find anyone. The city was in tightly controlled chaos, as people ran to collect their most precious objects, only to be told that their great-grandmother's silver or their father's harp were to remain behind.

The only things permitted on the journey were those items needed for survival. Needless to say, some altercations broke out over this edict. Lana skirted a livid elderly woman as she argued with a long-suffering soldier. The crone was not about to leave her precious Dol Amroth rug behind. Her husband had purchased it years ago for their fifth wedding anniversary. The lady had to be seventy-five at least.

Lana felt for her, but at the same time rolled her eyes. A rug would be useless baggage on an evacuation like this. Lana doubted that the enemy would be interested in such things as rugs.

Neatly threading through the crowd, she approached the stables. It was pandemonium inside, and after dodging grooms, soldiers, and horses she ducked back out to look for her companions.

Rising on tiptoes Lana scanned the many blond heads searching first for Legolas. Then she thought more logically that it would be easier to spot the dark-haired Aragorn amid the sea of flaxen hair. But she saw neither. She tried looking for Gimli, but that was hopeless as well. The dwarf would certainly be obscured by the towering height of these horsemen. So instead, she listened for his booming voice.

Her thoughts drifted as she combed the crowds.

After leaving Legolas, Lana had met the Lady Éowyn in her room. The reserved woman had eyed her with something akin to judgmental attention but did not say a thing. Clearly Lana had broken some social taboo, and it was easy to figure out which one. What respectable woman would share her bed in a room full of men?

Lana had never experienced such an awkward breakfast before. The two women dined in Éowyn's chambers on leftover cold cuts, cheese, and bread. While the lady was aloof, Lana had done her best to tease out some conversation. It took all of her interviewing skills but at last, she cracked the woman's icy demeanor. Once that happened Lana discovered that Éowyn could be likable. It just took a lot of coaxing and pulling to get a decent conversation out of her.

Lana, however, was an expert conversationalist. As a journalist, it was her job to talk to people and to get them to share their stories. She knew how to get people to open up. It helped that Lana was genuinely curious in the White Lady of Rohan. The woman was like a ball of yarn—all knotted up and coiled in on herself. Years of repressed emotions had made the young woman cold and hardhearted.

Éowyn was not entirely forthcoming, despite Lana's best efforts, but she did tell her a little bit about her life in the Hall. Lana congratulated herself when she got the lady to laugh a little. They both had brothers and they swapped stories about the inane stupidity of boy siblings.

When they had finished their breakfast, Lana had packed her scant few belongings and then helped Éowyn with hers. Lana had really wished for a second bath but time was a valuable commodity that morning. It was also a shame to leave the fairytale princess gowns behind. She had thanked Éowyn profusely; not only for the dress but for allowing her to feel womanly again.

Then Éowyn surprised her. "You can have these," she said holding up a sturdy and slightly worn riding habit. Over her arm was also a simple linen dress of faded bluebell color. Lana's eyes widened. She didn't know what to say. It seemed highly generous for this royal lady to be giving away her clothes.

"I'm not using them, and I hate for them to be collecting moths in my closet. Better they go to someone who can use them." She had smiled then and some of the frostiness melted away.

Lana eagerly changed into her new riding habit, excited to see how it fit. The outer material was a rich brown color while the undergarments were creamy buckskin. Unlike the riding habits of medieval times in her world, this one was quite functional. A lady could ride either sidesaddle or straddle the horse.

The split skirts made for easy movement, and the pantaloon-like buckskin trousers felt very comfortable and feminine. While not vain, Lana did prefer to feel like a woman rather than a man. The clothing from Lothlórien was all well and good, but they were meant to disguise her sex. There was no need for that now.

Looking at herself in the mirror, Lana was pleased with the fit. The riding habit was more adjustable than the velvet dress from the night before. And this was good since she was both taller and curvier than Éowyn. _At least nothing will be bouncing around!_ She smirked as she buttoned the coat.

Seeing herself dressed thusly, Lana realized just how much her body had changed. While never heavy, she used to have a bit of pudge here and there. She had lacked any definition in her muscles whatsoever. Now, seeing herself as if for the first time, she noticed all the subtle changes. She was leaner, but her arms had more muscle tone from all her training. Her waist was definitely narrower. And her hair, which used to have trendy layers, had grown almost to the middle of her back. The side-swept fringe was now long enough to no longer be considered fringe.

But she felt stronger. She had more muscles now—and calluses. She grimaced at that. But it was to be expected when one was being forged into a warrior.

Now Lana's converse shoes were looking really worse for wear now. She was frowning at them when Éowyn glanced over her shoulder at them.

"Those are strange shoes."

She glanced at Éowyn with a self-deprecating smirk. "They're pretty common in I'm from."

Lana could see curiosity shimmering in Éowyn's eyes. "I hear that you are from the realm of London," she said. "Is this true?"

More than surprised Lana lifted a brow. "You've heard of London?" Astonishment was thick in her tone. A prickle of worry rubbed against her mind.

"Lord Aragorn told me that is where you hail from. Other than from his lips, I have never heard of the land. When we are not rushing about, you must tell me of it," she solicited politely.

Lana nodded and smiled noncommittally. Relief, then disappointment ran through her. Aragorn had instructed her strictly to not speak of her origins any more than necessary. So when Éowyn had mentioned London her heart skipped. But hearing the truth of the matter made her sudden and unexplainable hope die. Evasively Lana had told her that she would be happy to tell her more sometime.

Seeing the distressed state of Lana's shoes, Éowyn also gifted her a pair of boots. "These too are a bit worn, but they will hold up to the journey to Helm's Deep."

The lady handed her the pair of dark leather boots. They were simple with lacing up the sides. Because they were already broken in and they fit Lana's larger feet quite well. They were not nearly as comfortable as her Chucks, for the soles were made of pliable wood and harden leather. But she didn't mind as now she felt the part of a medieval traveler.

Feeling very grateful, Lana had reached out and kissed Éowyn on both cheeks and then embraced her. Needless to say, Éowyn had been shocked by such a familiar gesture, but the warmth and openness of Lana's gratitude did much to elevate Éowyn's opinion of her. While she still knew very little about Lana and the nature of her relationship with the foreigners, Éowyn felt that perhaps she could make a friend in this woman.

They and finished packing together, chatting comfortably now. It was a great change from the tense and awkward breakfast.

"Lady Lana."

Blinking, Lana returned from her thoughts. Before her stood the soldier from the evening before. What was his name? _Derngar_, she recalled. He held a beautiful sorrel mare by the reins and sketched a short bow to her.

"Good morning, Derngar."

He smiled brightly, pleased that she remembered him.

"We meet again, my lady." He reached for her hand, and like last night placed a kiss upon it.

And just like before, Lana was tempted to wipe her hand on her skirt. But she refrained and smiled politely. The way this soldier was smiling at her, she knew instantly what he was about. It made her a bit uneasy and a little more than annoyed. She didn't have time for soldier boys!

Derngar took a step closer. "It surprises me to see that you are alone once again, my lady."

She gave him a shallow look. Better to brush him off and be done with it. "My companions will be along any moment." She said and deliberately searched the crowd, trying to appear both very busy and nonchalant at the same time.

"Have you ever been to Helm's Deep, Lady Lana?"

She made a noise of negation, glancing briefly at him. He was still looking at her with bright interest. She tried to guess his age. He couldn't be more than twenty she thought. Perhaps eighteen.

_And I'm nearly thirty. Ugh…I'm getting old._

"It is a magnificent sight to behold," Derngar continued, either not getting her unvoiced body language, or ignoring it. "It is set into the mountains with tall, strong walls and spectacular caves that glitter in the light. Ever have our people have used it as a safe haven in times of trouble. It has never let us down."

"Fascinating." She quipped flatly.

The young soldier laughed. Lana at last focused on him and lifted a brow. "I can see that traveling to Helm's Deep is not what you had in mind when you came to Edoras."

She shrugged. "I didn't really know what to expect when I arrived here," she said honestly. "Maybe that we'd stay for a while, but obviously _that's_ not going to happen."

Derngar smiled warmly. "You are travel weary. It seems that you have not settled in one place for a long time."

Lana gave him a bald look. He was perceptive, she'd give him that much. Still something about him made her pause. She couldn't put a finger on it and so dismissed it.

Not dissuaded by her ill—or rather _lack_ of humor, he continued.

"The ride to Helm's Deep is a two-day journey. An equally weary soldier would enjoy the conversation and company of a lady from another land to make the time pass more quickly. What say you, Lady Lana? My horse Amron is swift and sure, and will guide safely on the paths to the fortress."

He extended a hand to her. "Will you ride with me to Helm's Deep?"

Lana blinked, stunned by his boldness. She had no interest in riding with him or speaking any further with him, but before she could manufacture a reply someone answered for her.

"While your offer is gracious, Soldier of Rohan, Lady Lana has committed to riding with myself and my companions."

Lana turned to see Legolas seated smartly on Arod just a few yards away. He nudged the stallion closer, stopping a mere five feet from Derngar and Amron.

He rode alone; neither Gimli nor Aragorn was in sight. Nor was Gandalf for that matter.

An annoyed smirk appeared on the soldier's face. "One of the elfin-folk," he noted mockingly as he scrutinized Legolas. "We heard that one of your kind was in Rohan."

Legolas said nothing but sat imperiously looking down his nose at the young soldier who was nothing more than a boy by comparison. His expression was blank, but Lana could sense that he was not pleased with Derngar. A disconcerting energy was emanating from the elf's body. She recalled that Legolas had seen Derngar approach her the night before.

At first, she had thought perhaps jealously prompted his actions last night, but after this morning's revelations she wondered if perhaps he sensed something about the young man that she did not.

Lips pulling into a tight smile, Derngar took a step towards Legolas. "I do not know much about elfin-folk or their ways, but in Rohan we allow our women to speak for themselves."

Legolas' eyes immediately slanted, his brows lowering dangerously at the insult.

The two males eyed each other darkly and the silence grew thick. Lana quickly stepped between the man and elf. She put her fingertips against Derngar's armor to keep him at bay.

"I will be traveling with my companions, Derngar. But thank you for the offer," she told him politely, but firmly.

To soften the blow, she gave him a genuine apologetic smile. To his credit, he bowed his head to her civilly. Then surprising her, he snatched up her hand and kissed it again.

"Another time perhaps, Lady Lana." He held her gaze before sending Legolas a searing look of challenge.

Without a further word, he turned and mounted his horse. He gave the sorrel mare a tap with his heels and both disappeared into the crowd. Lana turned to Legolas wiping her hand in her skirts. The elf was glaring openly, his eyes still gazing in the direction that the soldier had gone.

"What was that all about?" She exacted with a hand on her hip.

"I do not trust that man," he told her honestly. He returned his gaze to her, and she could see that he was clearly piqued.

"I'm sorry that he insulted you," she said soothingly. "That wasn't right or called for. But he merely saw me all along and offered me a ride." She shrugged her shoulders. "I guess he didn't like a rival."

"And what would your reply have been if I had not come and answered for you?" Legolas demanded sharply.

Lana folded her arms and glared at him. "What do you think?" She quipped defensively. "I don't know him from Adam. Why in the hell would I go off with him when I can ride with people I know and trust? "

Legolas sighed. He did not want to quarrel with her; not after the pleasant morning they had shared. _"Goheno nin._ I did not intend to upset you."

Lana sighed and uncrossed her arms. "Don't worry about it." Then she peered closely at him. "You really don't like him, do you?"

"Nay."

"Why?"

Legolas shifted to look in the direction that Derngar had taken before returning his focus back to her. "There is something about him that I do not trust. I cannot explain."

Lana decided to let it go. She couldn't really give a damn about Derngar. Besides, she had never heard so much disdain in Legolas' voice before. It made her rather uneasy about the whole thing, and she preferred to drop it.

"Where are the others?"

"Aragorn is in the stables now. He was speaking with Gimli last I knew. I would have been here sooner but we accompanied Gandalf to the stables. He rode off in search of the Marshal of the Mark."

"Gandalf's gone?" Lana asked in disbelief. _"Again?"_

Legolas nodded. "Aye, he left a short time ago." Seeing the annoyed expression of hurt on her face, he added, "There was no time to waste. He will see us in a few days."

Lana pursed her lips but nodded. Would it kill the guy to stick around though? She nearly choked on a laugh at her awful pun. Legolas distracted her by leaning down and touching her shoulder.

"The Lady Éowyn has loaned Gimli a bay mare to ride on the journey to Helm's Deep. He is not pleased about riding alone, but he is a proud and stubborn dwarf."

Lana grinned along with Legolas. She could well picture the scene he described. Legolas continued.

"This leaves Arod and I to travel alone." He smiled down at her and removed his hand from her shoulder. "We would very much enjoy your company. _Noro ah ammen, hiril nín?"_ He held out his hand to her._ Ride with us, my lady?_

Lana's lips curved into a smile. "I would like that very much, Aureos."

Legolas grinned brightly at the sound of his nickname. It had been far too long since he had heard it spoken from her lips. She placed her hand in his and with ease he pulled her gently up to sit behind him.

Slowly she slipped her arms around his trim waist. Immediately she noted much leaner he was than Aragorn and how much lighter he sat in the saddle. And he was deliciously warm compared to the chilly air around them.

"I noticed your new gown," he commented as she shifted behind him to get comfortable.

She adjusted her skirts so they lay comfortably.

"Yes, Éowyn was very sweet and gave me some new clothes, and a new pair of boots," she told him happily. She stuck out her foot to show them off.

"Ah fine boots," he said, and she could see his lips curving in amusement. "Though I shall miss those strange shoes that you wear."

"My Converse sneakers?"

He nodded.

"These are much better. My poor Chucks were falling apart. I love those shoes but they're not meant to be running around cross-country."

Seeing Legolas' baffled expression she laughed lightly. As she lowered her leg to Arod's flank, she flapped away the question in his eyes. "Never mind,"

He grinned back at her. "Hold tightly. Arod is very fleet of hoof."

Obeying, Lana tightened her arms around his waist. Legolas felt her body shift closer to his. This was certainly far more pleasant than having Gimli's arms at his waist. Not to mention the fact that she smelled so much better than the dwarf.

Glancing back at her to make certain she was ready, he signaled Arod forward with his voice.

They met Aragorn and Gimli at the gates. Soon the people of Rohan were following their king, his niece, and this small heroic band of strangers out of the city and into the wilds.

Lana held on tightly to Legolas as they went. She could feel that Arod was indeed more spirited than Hasufel. The last thing she wanted was to fall off ignominiously.

She also continued to notice all the subtle differences between Legolas and Aragorn. She could feel the muscles of his stomach moving beneath his tunic as his body shifted seamlessly with Arod's dainty movements. While she had lain with Legolas on the ground out in the wild and shared his bed with him the night before, she had never stopped to notice certain things about him.

For example: the warmth of his skin. She surmised that elves had higher body temperatures than humans did because he was always warm to the touch. In fact, he would be an excellent portable furnace. She smiled covertly at that. Given the opportunity, she wouldn't say no to cuddling up before a fire with him.

He was also very svelte, but not underweight. Now she could now feel just how muscled he truly was. He was in no way a bodybuilder. But that suited her just fine. He was like a panther—sleek, elegant, and deadly. Or perhaps he was more like a deer. He certainly carried himself with a sophisticated pride that she now attributed to his royal upbringing.

Everything about him was just right.

_Except that he has never loved…_

Quickly she slammed that thought away lest it bring the unpleasant self-doubts and disenchantment. While she was still astonished by that information she was also disappointed, which made no sense. After all, hadn't she told herself she wasn't ready for a relationship? However, knowing Legolas' keen perception of her thoughts and feelings she let this one go and savored the moment instead.

Feeling eyes upon her, Lana rotated slightly and saw that several of the soldiers were staring bluntly at her as they rode behind the king's guard. They were grinning and one even winked at her. She could well imagine what they were thinking; especially with how she clung to Legolas so tightly even though they were traveling at a walk.

To one side she saw Derngar. He smiled warmly at her, his eyes lingering on her form, but when she looked away the smile turned into a severe frown. The elf was riding tall and proud with the woman wrapped tightly about him, and it irked Derngar to no end.

o0o

The exodus traveled until the sun was less than an hour from setting. With so many people they made an easy target. It would take some time to coordinate a proper watch that evening—and better to get that settled before darkness took away their sight.

Lana's rear was sore as were her inner thighs. Her arms and hands faired no better. They were cramped from holding the same position around Legolas' waist for so long. She had dismounted rigidly and stumbled a bit as her legs ironically felt like jelly.

"You must walk so that you do not stiffen up," Legolas told her when she collapsed down with a groan. "Otherwise, tomorrow you will not be able to move."

She moaned dramatically, but then pushed herself upright with a sigh. She batted away Legolas' hand. She wasn't an invalid yet! Legolas smiled at her little display.

"Fine. I'll take a _small_ walk," she countered, arching her back.

"I shall accompany you," he said grasping Arod's reins. He intended to bring the stallion with them. But Lana shook her head and patted him on the arm.

"Nah, it's alright. You tend to Arod and get something to eat. I'll be back shortly."

Legolas frowned. "And what of you? You have been eating naught more than a bird these last two days. Do not think that I have not noticed."

His concern was touching and she smiled warmly at him.

"I promise that I'll eat when I return." Shirking off her backpack and heavy weapons. She sighed as the excess weight left her. Gathering up her skirts she said, "Save a seat around the biggest fire you can find." She flashed him a cheeky grin before ambling around the low hill they were by.

Legolas smiled slightly and watched her walk away. Her steps were slow and no doubt agonizing, but she managed well enough. He sighed as he allowed her to drift off on her own. His instincts were telling him to not let her stray from his sight.

He allowed his eyes to survey the massive camp. There was nothing untoward that he could see, and no dangers that he could sense. Perhaps he was just being too sensitive. Yet, his gut was telling him to go after her.

His thoughts were disrupted when Aragorn approached. The two began to speak and unsaddle their horses together.

o0o

Lana put her hands over her sciatica nerve and arched backward a bit. Her vertebrae snapped then popped. She exhaled. Once she was behind the hill she bent all the way over and hung there until she could touch her toes. It felt so good to stretch, but a hot bath would have been better.

Straightening up, she knew that thinking about what she could not have was just self-torture. Perhaps she would pull out some of the scented oils that Éowyn had also gifted to her. At least, she could _smell_ pleasant if nothing else.

The hill she walked around was not so tall but it was wide. She followed it around for a bit until the sun touched the horizon. The first stars were winking overhead and it became much cooler. Spring might be coming, but winter had yet to release its hold on the land. Lana shivered slightly and rubbed her hands together. Then her stomach whined at her. It was time to find that cozy fire and eat some camp food.

She smirked at the thought recollecting the family camping trips she had taken when she was very small. Those had been good days. She and her brother would run through the trees in the Black Forest in Germany, chasing each other and the evening insects. Their black and white mutt, Buck, would run joyously after them. The dog had been as dumb as dirt, but he loved her and Aidan and was loyal to a fault.

After playing they would be herded back to camp by one of their parents to eat sausages and beans by the fire, and—if they had been good and ate all their beans—they were allowed to make smores. Her stomach grumbled again._ I miss chocolate._

Wrapping her cloak about her to ward off the chill, she started back on quick feet. She did not get far when someone approached her out of the gloom.

She squinted trying to make out who it was. "Legolas? Is that you?" She asked hesitantly. It was already quite dark, which made her vision not so good in the half-light.

"Do I look like an elf to you, my lady?" A surly voice replied.

Lana halted at the belligerent tone, then laughed nervously after recognizing who it was. As the figure stepped closer she mentally smacked herself. How could she have made such a stupid mistake? The man was clearly shorter, broader, and far less graceful that Legolas. And he lacked that ethereal glow the elf had.

"Derngar. I'm sorry about that—I didn't recognize you. It's getting dark and I can't see anything so far ahead."

He laughed heartily, causing Lana to cock her head and frown slightly. "'Tis alright, my lady. Not all of us are blessed with elf-eyes." His tone was derisive.

Derngar stepped closer and Lana saw that he was not wearing his armor. He was dressed simply in jerkin, tunic, and riding breeches. He still wore his belt and a good-sized knife hung from it. Lana swallowed and glanced into his face. His wavy hair was pulled back from it into a low ponytail. But a few strands fell rakishly over his face.

"I am surprised that elf allowed you to leave his sight," he commented sourly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She contested hotly.

He raised his hands in mock surrender, chuckling now. "I do not mean to offend, lady, but it seems that you can do nothing without his consent."

Liquid anger shot through Lana, but she curbed it with a biting remark. "Clearly that is not the case, as you can well see," she said gesturing mockingly. "He's not here with me now," she added with false sweetness.

"True enough, though last I saw him, he was standing with Isildur's heir waiting impatiently for the man to stop speaking. No doubt to dismiss him so that he could find where you wandered off to."

Lana crossed her arms and leveled a harsh glare at the young man. "Oh, so you're a mindreader now, too?" She mocked, and then rolled her eyes. "His impatience could have meant any number of things."

Derngar laughed and stepped closer. Lana uncrossed her arms and turned away slightly. All her senses went on alert. His eyes raked her over.

"Whatever you say, my lady."

Nostrils flaring Lana snapped at him. "I do not appreciate you insulting me or my friends," she glared self-righteously. "It is most unbecoming as a _soldier_. I expected better from the Rohan people. And what you said to Legolas this morning was uncalled for." She added with vehemence.

Warning flags were waving in her mind. She knew she went too far and all her instincts were telling her to beat a retreat. Now. While she could trade words with the best of them, this man was double her weight if not more. And he was an experienced soldier, while she barely had her basics down.

Undeterred, Derngar snorted. "The elf would not allow you to answer for yourself. The pointy-eared faerie needed to be put in his place."

Lana's lip curled in disdain. She gave the man a thorough once over making sure he could feel her disgust then made to leave. "Enough of this bullshit. I'm out of here."

"Wait, my lady! I meant no offense. Please, will you not stay?" He held out his arms blocking her path. He was chuckling again which made her angrier.

Lana gave him a scathing look. "Are you fucking kidding me? After _your_ behavior? I think not. I'm not going to stand around and listen to you insult my friends. Perhaps you should go back to your mother and learn some manners." She tried to move around him.

_"Friend?"_ Derngar spat, and blocked her path again. "I dare say that the elf thinks he is more than your friend. He acts as if you belong to him; as if you are his _possession_._"_ He stepped towards her.

Lana lifted a hand but caught herself before she slapped the man. He saw it though and grinned spitefully.

"He made sure that you were tied to his waist today and that everyone could see you with him as he rode up front with Théoden King."

Lana was seeing red now. "Fuck off you son of a bitch! You don't know what the fuck you're talking about." She exploded.

Derngar merely laughed again at her energetic outburst. Lana swore under her breath and made to push past him. A gloved hand fastened around her wrist and yanked her back. Hard. Her shoulder popped from the force of it.

"We are not finished speaking. It is rude to walk away when you have not been dismissed." Derngar practically growled. His sardonic teasing manner seemed to evaporate into that of a slighted man on edge.

"Let go of me." Lana ordered while trying to remain calm.

She twisted her wrist trying to get him to loosen his grip. Her eyes fell again to the dagger at his waist. Instead of releasing her though, he tightened his grip making her gasp and swear loudly.

"Let me go, Derngar," she said putting firmness in her voice. "You don't want to do anything stupid." Her heart was pounding with apprehension, and familiar feelings of fear and anxiety welled up from her subconscious as if from a poisoned well.

Derngar tugged her close to him, his hazel eyes raking over her body as if undressing her with his eyes. She had seen a look like that before and it had led to some of the worst memories she had. She pushed against him with her free hand.

"We are not finished speaking, my lady." He breathed against her. He tilted his head and leaned in closer.

Lana caught the scent of ale on his breath. "You've been drinking," she said in sudden dread. "You're drunk! Let me go!" She exclaimed pulling away.

She was on the verge of desperation. Her body was trembling as old memories paralyzed her. Faced with a drunk, aroused, and angry man, she couldn't think of anything beyond escaping. She couldn't think straight at all.

Derngar laughed at her pathetic attempts to pull away. He was far superior in size and strength, and he had her where he wanted her now. He twisted her wrist making her cry out. With his free hand, he snatched up a lock of her hair and brought it to his nose.

His delight died almost instantly, however. A bright sharp arrowhead appeared less than an inch from his head. Drawing the arrow back on a large bow was the elf.

"The lady asked you to release her," Legolas said, his voice low and deadly.

In the faint light of the stars, Lana could see that the elf was enraged. His brows were drawn low over his eyes. And they were dark with fury. A dangerous aura was emanating from him. It wouldn't take much to instigate bloodshed.

Derngar let go of her hair but kept his hold on her wrist as he faced his adversary. Lana tried to twist away but his grip was like a vice. "Once again you appear when you are unwanted. This is none of your concern, _elf."_ He spat.

"Lana is my concern. Release her…or die." Legolas threatened.

Lana's heart stopped. His voice was like ice and Lana felt herself shiver from the sound of it. _Don't do anything stupid!_ She stared beseechingly at him, but Legolas had eyes only for her assailant.

Derngar laughed nervously. "Surely you would not kill a man for merely speaking to a lady!"

"I would kill a man if I believed him to be harming one of my friends." Legolas retorted dangerously.

"What goes on here!"

Legolas did not move at the sound of Aragorn's voice. He had heard the Ranger coming as well as Gimli followed by a group of Rohirrim. With how quickly he had left Aragorn's side, he knew he could count on Aragorn to realize that something was wrong and follow him.

"Do you need help, lad?" Gimli asked, ax in hand. Legolas did not answer, his concentration still on the soldier.

"Derngar, what is the meaning of this?" A new voice cracked like a whip.

Théoden appeared looking very displeased. At the sound of his king's voice, Derngar very casually released Lana's wrist. She instantly drew back to the safety of her friends, holding her bruised wrist to her chest. Her heart quivered like a nervous creature in a cage. Desperately she tried to calm herself. She didn't want to appear weak.

Théoden closed in on the recalcitrant soldier who was now looking very nervous.

"'Twas a misunderstanding, my liege," Derngar blubbered.

"Misunderstanding indeed," Legolas shot sharply.

"Derngar, explain what has happened," Théoden demanded.

"I…"

"Speak up!" The king ordered.

Derngar winced. "We were speaking, my liege, and she started to walk away—"

"And that gave you the right to restrain her?" Théoden interrupted, less than impressed.

"My liege, it is difficult to speak when there is an arrow pointed in my face!" Derngar said defensively, shooting a glare at Legolas.

The elf hadn't moved, and the arrow was aimed true.

"The arrow shall stay for now." Théoden King said, looking at Legolas. Then he turned to Lana. "My lady, what has taken place here? We heard several cries."

"I was just taking a short walk when Derngar accosted me. He started insulting my friends and me, and when I turned to leave he grabbed my wrist and wouldn't let go. He's drunk. I could smell alcohol on his breath."

Théoden stepped closer to Derngar.

"Indeed," he said with distinct displeasure. "Someone must have smuggled a barrel of ale and the men have gotten into it. Even honest men sometimes do not know when they have had enough." He gave Derngar a displeased look.

Théoden turned again to Legolas. "Master Elf, if you would lower your weapon."

Legolas leveled a hard stare at Derngar before he slowly lowered his bow. With stiff movements, he replaced the arrow in his quiver.

"My lady," Théoden said addressing her once more. "You have my sincerest apology for the behavior of one of my soldiers. Derngar will personally attend my Master of Arms until I deem otherwise. He will not be a bother to you again."

Lana nodded and bowed her head deferentially. Théoden left with his soldiers and the shamed Derngar in tow.

"Are you alright, lass?" Gimli asked her, touching her elbow gently.

She forced a wobbly smile. "I'm ok. Just a little shaken up."

In truth, her heart was pounding so hard that it felt like it would shatter her chest. Now she felt sick with the after effects of the adrenaline rush. The control on her emotions was thrown into all sorts of disarray.

"You should not stray while we travel," Aragorn warned tersely. "If Legolas had not heard you who knows what would have taken place!"

Lana couldn't bring herself to look at Aragorn. The man was unaware of her past history but that didn't matter. If he knew perhaps he wouldn't have spoke so harshly.

Even so, Lana hated it when she appeared weak and unable to take care of herself. Despite the training she had, she was no match for the people bred and raised in this world. Their weapons were an extension of their hands and arms. Their personalities were forceful and unrefined. They would not hesitate to use brute force she discovered. Not to mention their customs and attitudes toward woman were both foreign and archaic to her. She knew that if she didn't learn to toughen up then she wouldn't survive.

She wouldn't always have her friends to rely on.

Lana nodded in acknowledgment of the Ranger's words, but she still did not look at him. She held her wrist close to her chest and rubbed it gingerly. Aragorn pursed his lips and glanced at Legolas who had remained unusually quiet. The elf was gazing closely at the mortal woman. He shared a look with Aragorn and something unspoken passed between them.

"Come, Gimli," Aragorn said.

"If she is certain she is unharmed." Gimli said, watching her face worriedly.

She gave the dwarf a calmer smile though it was difficult. "I'm alright," she assured him. "Just shaken. I'll be fine."

Looking at her face for a moment, he glanced at Legolas and nodded. He stepped away and following Aragorn. Legolas waited until the Ranger and dwarf had gone before he spoke.

"When I heard your cry…" his words faded as a sudden rush of emotion overwhelmed him again.

The worry that he had felt when he heard her distressed cry was slowly fading but his concern heightened. Tears were clouding Lana's eyes and she wouldn't look at him. Instead, she stared at the ground.

"It seems that you're always saving me," she complained, trying to keep her tears in check. "When am I ever going to be able to take care of myself?"

She kicked a loose stone and set it flying. She was angry. Angry at the feelings of helplessness that still assailed her. Angry at the fact that Legolas, or Gimli, or Aragorn were always rescuing her. Angry that she felt tears in her eyes. She wanted to scream in frustration. Or hit something.

Legolas moved close and placed his fingers under her chin. Lifting it he peered into her eyes. He could feel her remorse clearly.

"What use would I be to you if you could always fend for yourself?" His voice was soft and tender, with a hint of teasing.

Lana laughed, and then to her horror she started to cry. Legolas felt his heart contract in his chest. Without a second thought, he gathered her in his arms and held her to his chest.

_"Avo nallo. Nan sí."_ He stroked her hair gently. "You are safe." He whispered. _Do not cry. I am here._

She gripped his tunic harder, her body shaking with silent sobs. Legolas silently cursed Derngar. The fury that burned in his stomach had not lessened. After a few minutes, Lana's tears faded and diminished altogether. She pulled back, suddenly embarrassed.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to break down like that. It just reminded me of…" her voice faded and face took on a haunted look.

_"Istan."_ Legolas reached for her hands and held them comfortingly. _I know_.

He knew she was thinking of the horrors of her captivity and how powerless she had felt. Very gently he took her wrist into his hands, turning it this way and that. The tattooed "Invictus" stood out starkly against her skin.

"It is red, but it does not appear to be broken. Does it pain you?"

"A little. It will probably be bruised in the morning, but I'll be fine."

Legolas rubbed the red area softly but stopped when she grimaced.

_"Goheno nin,"_ he murmured.

His eyes fell then to her palm. The wound inflicted by Boromir was no longer bound. It had healed completely but left behind a darkened mark. He had forgotten how easily mortals could scar. She now carried yet another reminder that she and men did not mix well.

Without thinking, he pressed his lips to the mark and gave it a tender kiss. He had no idea what prompted him to do such a thing, but it felt right.

Lana watched Legolas intently, and suppressed a shudder as his lips touched her skin. His breath warmed her hand. Her fear from Derngar was replaced by a plethora of tactile sensations. Internally she felt confused by his actions. She wished she understood elves better. Then perhaps she would know why he would act intimately with her.

_It must be an elvish thing._

"We should return before Aragorn and Gimli grow worried," he told her, interrupting her wayward thoughts.

She merely nodded, tucking her hand back to her chest—this time trying to hold onto the sensation of the kiss.

o0o

They sat by one of the many campfires. Lana had offered to help some of the women prepare dinner to make herself useful. After her ordeal she needed to feel some level of empowerment, even if it was as simple as peeling potatoes. She was good at that.

Legolas sat just a few yards from her, one knee drawn to his chest, his eyes not once leaving her form as the light of the flames danced upon them all. Aragorn and Gimli were conversing nearby, but he paid them little heed.

The elf was enjoying the different emotions that played across Lana's features as she talked with the other women. She carefully peeled the potato in her hand with her dagger. It looked awkward but she managed rather masterfully he thought. Her face lit up as one of the young women said something. Her reply was animated and they all laughed.

He loved to see her smile. It made him content. Mortals were so _expressive!_ And so full of life for beings that did not walk long on the earth. They were like a flame—bright shining but at the mercy of powers far greater than themselves. It was part of what drew Legolas to them.

He was concerned when Lana did not consume much of the stew that she had worked so hard to prepare. While it was certainly not flavorful, it was nourishment, which she needed. But she swatted away his concern with playful hand and told him he worried too much.

Some time later, they left the fire and ventured off together through the grass. Aragorn and Gimli, who were both smoking, watched them go. They exchanged a glance.

_"Ithil_ is bright this evening." Lana noted aloud. "Bright enough for me to see my sketchbook and draw." She turned to gaze thoughtfully onto Legolas who was standing beside her. "Would you allow me to sketch you?"

He looked down upon her affectionately, recalling the first time that he had seen her drawing. She had been so guarded back then, and they did not share the friendship they had now.

"Much time has passed since I saw you sketch last."

"Well there really hasn't been time with all this crazy traveling," she said dryly. "But tonight there is. Besides, drawing comforts me."

"I comfort you not?" He teased, lifting a single brow.

Lana crossed her arms, mock-stern. "Legolas Greenleaf, are you evading my question?"

He laughed heartily at that. A silver sound that made her shiver in awe and appreciation. Catching that, he frowned rapidly. "You are cold." His hands immediately went to the clasp of his cloak.

She quickly shook her head. "No, I have my own cloak on now. I'm fine."

"Yet I saw you tremble."

She smiled at him. "Don't _worry_ so much. I'm fine. And you are still evading my question." She teased.

Legolas pursed his lips. She was evading his concern. It was something she did frequently and he did not approve.

"You may sketch me if it comforts you. What must I do?"

Glancing about she gestured to a boulder. "Can you lean against that rock and gaze up at the moon? There will be some good contrast from the light."

He smiled and did as she asked, leaning back upon the rock. "Like this?"

"Yes, but look up at the moon, not at me. And bring your hair over your shoulder so that it's not in shadow."

Legolas did as she asked so that his hair cascaded down the front of his tunic. It appeared silver in the light of the moon.

"Perfect," Lana murmured, trying to remember to breath.

Opening her bag she pulled out her sketchbook and pencils. Her fingers were a bit unsteady due to residual nerves from earlier but she soon forgot it all that as the methodical feeling of drawing consumed her. The simple act of drawing made her forget Derngar and the haunting memories of her past. But it made her thoughts of Legolas more prominent. There were many glances thrown his way that were not done for the sake of sketching.

Legolas was patient for a time, content to gaze at the moon and stars, listening to the sound of Lana's pencil on the paper.

"May I see the sketch?" He asked after a while.

"I'm not done yet," she said, shading away furiously.

"I wish to see it." He replied.

"Too bad. You'll have to wait until I'm done."

"And if I do not desire to wait?"

Lana smirked at him, glancing up. "Tough shit pal." She snorted, bemused by his childish lack of patience. "And here I thought elves were the masters of fortitude."

She laughed and gazed back down at her book only to find that it was no longer in her lap.

"Legolas!"

Looking up with wide eyes, she saw that he was standing right in front of her, and that he was holding her sketchbook. What was worse was that he was grinning like the Cheshire Cat!

"I wasn't finished!"

His grin only widened and became mischievous. He flipped through the pages of the book, attempting to find the page that she had been working on. But she wasn't about to make it easy for him. Surging to her feet she made a grab for the book.

He was much quicker though—and taller, and he easily held it out of her reach. When she could not snatch the book back she lunged at him, trying to throw him off balance.

He laughed, easily catching her in his arms, enjoying their play. He felt young and carefree like when he was an elfling so long ago. Times like this made one forget that war loomed on the horizon.

Immediately Lana reached for the book, but he anticipated her move and held it just out of her reach.

"You are _impossible!"_ She laughed, hitting his chest in mock anger.

His smile widened. "As are you."

She shook her head and still laughing. Her long hair had fallen into her face. She attempted to brush it back, but Legolas stopped her, catching her wrist gently in his hand.

He then placed the sketchbook down on the rock he had been reclining against. Releasing her wrist he smiled at her confused expression. Reaching forward he gently brushed back the hair that was hanging in her face. Despite the task being completed, his fingers lingered.

"This is becoming a terrible habit of mine," he confided softly. "One I find myself indulging in far too often."

"What is? Stealing my sketchbook? I don't know the word for 'thief' in Elvish but maybe I should change your nickname to _ladro."_ She said playfully arching a brow. "It would suit you better."

He laughed softly. Her heart galloped in her chest as he ran his long slender fingers through her hair. As she braced against his body she could feel each breath he took.

"I enjoy touching your hair," he whispered conspiratorially.

He combed his fingers through the strands and was gentle if they caught in a tangle. Before long all the snarls were gone and his fingers moved without resistance.

"It is not so unlike elven hair," he continued. "Except that it is a somewhat coarser and it grows much faster." Smiling he tilted his head slightly, gazing into her azure eyes. "Yet it intrigues me beyond reckoning. My fingers are drawn to it like a moth to a flame."

Lana's eyes widened at this revelation and her heart jumped as if someone had pressed an accelerator. They stared at each other. Both were aware that she was leaning against him, their bodies were pressed together and his hand was buried in her hair.

Neither remembered who moved first or if they moved at the same moment, but some unseen force drew them closer.

Lana felt Legolas' breath on her face. It was warm and it tickled her skin. She swallowed. Her eyes automatically went to his lips as he gazed intently into her eyes.

His thumb brushed over her ear as it made its way deeper into her hair. She inhaled, her breath stuck in her throat as her eyes closed for a moment. Then she froze, unable to move. Her heart was knocking against her ribcage as if determined to burst free.

She felt afraid, confused, excited, and anxious, and a great deal many other emotions that were nameless.

Legolas' fingers continued their path through her hair, his movements becoming bolder as they occasionally stroked her cheek before delving once again into the heavy aurous strands.

The feel of his fingers in her hair was beyond pleasant, as was his warm lean body against hers. She enjoyed how they breathed together; the movement of that simple action bringing them closer than apart; closer than apart. He smelled faintly of smoke from the campfire, of green verdant things, and leather from his quiver. Underneath it all was the delicious scent that was uniquely his—a musky masculine fragrance that was unlike any man she had ever known.

Unconsciously she licked her lips.

The action caused Legolas' gaze to be drawn to her mouth and he found himself tiling his head to one side. A heat flared within him as he focused on her lips, imagining what they might feel like yielding beneath his.

The hand that had remained by his side moved upward to her shoulder and lightly traced down her arm before it fell to rest on her waist. She shivered due to the caress. Legolas parted his lips slightly in anticipation as he moved closer.

He inhaled.

Their lips were a faint whisper away from touching. A haze clouded his thoughts and senses from nearly all else but the woman in front of him. Legolas was determined to make the move that would unite them even though he did not know what caused him to desire this.

"Legolas? Lana? Where've you gone off to?"

The sound of Gimli's voice nearby made both of them jump apart. The dwarf was so close that Legolas' hand was still in Lana's hair when Gimli appeared round the bend. Legolas could scarcely believe that he had not heard Gimli approaching. What good was keen elvish hearing if one did not use it!

"There you two are!" The dwarf called out, crossing his arms. "Aragorn and I were a bit worried when you went for a walk and didn't—"

The words died on his tongue.

First, there was an expression of surprise on Legolas' face, which was rapidly turning into annoyance. The elf was clearly upset at being bothered…_or interrupted_... Then Gimli noticed that Lana and Legolas stood close together, and the elf's hand was buried deeply in her hair. Lana wore an expression of being startled and embarrassed.

He realized instantly he that he had disturbed something of serious and most likely intimate nature. "Eh, I—I'll speak with you later," he stuttered and about-faced very quickly.

In a moment he was gone.

Legolas turned to Lana who was looking very uncertain and terribly confused. Her lips were compressed as her brows knit causing deep lines to appear on her forehead. Legolas could feel his heart pounding. He too was confused…and disappointed. Deeply so.

It puzzled him.

"Legolas…" she murmured softly.

He drew a finger over her lips to silence her, and then lightly stroked it across them. Lana shook her head and took a step away, needing to put some space between them. His hand fell away from her and there was a look of regret on his face.

Lana's heart was thundering now for completely different reasons than before.

"We almost…" she trailed off, bringing the back of her hand to her mouth.

It was as if to speak it aloud it would manifest. At the moment, they remained in that nebulous area between disbelief and dazed confusion.

Legolas nodded slowly. The haze was gone from his mind now, and he was well aware of what had nearly taken place.

_"Istan."_

His voice was quiet: his tone unreadable. Lana felt her chest clench tightly. She couldn't tell how he was feeling. Was he upset or angry with her? Did he think that she was brazen for almost kissing him? Why in the hell had she leaned in to kiss him in the first place?

_But he was the one who leaned into me!...Right?_

His behavior left her head spinning like a centrifuge. She _knew_ that anything other than friendship between her and Legolas would never work. He would never love her, and yet she had been all too ready to kiss and embrace him as if such things were completely possible.

She felt stupid, foolish, and worst of all, naïve. "I'm so sorry. Please forgive me." She offered lamely.

Legolas felt an ache under his breastbone at her words.

"Do not apologize to me." He said earnestly. "It is I who should be asking for your forgiveness."

"You?" Disbelief colored her tone.

Legolas nodded slowly. He sensed so many emotions from her all at once. What was it that she was truly feeling? He hoped that she was not angry with him. He could not bear to have her push him away again.

"My actions were ill after the trauma you already faced this night." He explained.

She shook her head, contradicting his words. "They weren't ill. You comforted me earlier, and let me sketch you…well, for a little while at least." She teased cautiously.

It broke some of the tension between them. Legolas smiled faintly, remembering their horseplay. It had been a moment of amusement and pleasure in a time riddled with fear, suspicion, and war.

"I'm not angry or upset with you. I'm just…_confused_._"_ She grimaced.

She understood now that confusion overpowered everything else that she was feeling. Tilting her head to one side, she looked into his luminous eyes. He seemed otherworldly standing there under the silver light of the moon and stars. Lana drew her arms about her middle and hugged herself.

"I'm really confused."

He stepped toward her, feeling the need to be close to her and was pleased when she did not pull away. He leaned his forehead against hers and sighed deeply.

"As am I." He whispered.

His heart was racing madly like a horse across the plains that were his muddled emotions. His intuitions told him that it was best to let this lie for now, even though his desire to receive answers burned like a thousand beacons within him. It was not the time to discover what was happening between them. War loomed on the horizon and showed no sign of releasing them.

This—whatever it was—would have to wait.

Stepping back, he reached behind him for her sketchbook. He handed it to her and watched as she flipped through the pages. She stopped and then turned the book around so that he could see.

He smiled at the image of him gazing up at the moon, but frowned seeing that it was not completed.

"Forgive me for not allowing you to finish."

She shrugged. "Don't worry about it."

She closed the book and tucked it beneath her arm. She didn't need the drawing anyway. The image of him sitting on the rock in the moonlight was forever burned into her memory.

They stood gazing at each other for a few moments in silence. Then he offered his hand to her. She gazed at it a moment before she slid her hand into his. He squeezed her hand once it was encased in his, rubbing his thumb across the back of it, and smiled at her. She smiled in return, though it was faint and forced.

Slowly without a word, he led her toward the sound of voices, horses, and crackling fires.

* * *

_Thoughts? _

_A note: _Ladro _is Italian for "thief" according to Google. Please correct me if I am wrong._

_As always, thanks for reading!_


	28. Thrown to the Wolves

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story. **

I make no claim to Tolkien's works_._ I also give credit to Cormak3032.

* * *

**Chapter 27: Thrown to the Wolves**

Lana was rather relieved when she and Legolas returned to camp and the elf did not stay with her. A large group of men, women, and children would be an easy target on the plains. Legolas' heightened sight and hearing would be able to detect a threat long before any of the men did. He wished to offer his abilities to the king and to the people of Rohan.

Leaving her in the care of Gimli, he went off to keep watch. His leave-taking was reluctant. His eyes lingered on Lana's form before he slipped silently away into the night.

Gimli was quiet as Lana sat across one of the small fires from him. She could feel his speculative eyes on her but she resolved to play it cool. Gathering up her pack, she started sifting through it as if looking for something but not finding it. She must have gone through it three times already. Idly she picked at her fingernails.

Aragorn was sitting off alone in the tall grass smoking his long-stemmed pipe. The white smoke drifted around him as he sat deep in thought. He paid little heed to the world around him. At least, he hadn't seen what Gimli had!

While there was the sound of talking, of horses nickering and stomping, and of fires crackling, the silence between her and Gimli became taut. She pursed her lips trying to think of something to say.

"It's a nice night. I'm glad it's not as cold as it has been."

Gimli nodded. "Aye. Warm for the middle of March."

"It's March?" She said with more surprise than necessary.

Gimli nodded again. "Aye," he regarded her curiously as the woman seemed deep in thought. After a moment, Gimli inquired, "Is there something important about the month of March?"

She shrugged a shoulder. "No. It's just a bit crazy to think of how long I've been here now." Her lips thinned.

Gimli grunted. "Aye. It has been some time. Three months by my reckoning." He counted in his head. "And it's been two months since I last beheld the most beautiful sight to behold." He sighed somberly. "Alas, I fear that I shall not see such fair beauty again."

Lana smiled warmly remembering how highly Gimli regarded of the Lady of Light. She found it rather cute.

"You were quite taken with her. Considering that she is an elf."

Gimli immediately huffed and poked the long stick he held into the fire for a moment before shaking it at her.

"Someone I know seems to be quite taken by an elf as well. So smitten in fact that she takes to sneaking off with him in the dark to steal a kiss," he shot back.

Immediately he regretted his rash words. Lana's eyes grew wide and she looked away, cheeks flaming. She was horrified.

"Lass, I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it. I—"

"It's fine Gimli." Forcing a smile she spoke through gritted teeth, "If you can't take it, then don't dish it out they say." She rose to her feet, shouldering her pack. "I'm tired. I'll see you in the morning."

She moved off stiffly into the tall grass seeking a solitary spot away from him and anyone else. Gimli rubbed his nose. He had shocked her; possibly offended her—her clipped tone was a testimony to that. But he knew the best thing he could do was to let her come to him. Then he could apologize again later.

He replayed what he had witnessed through his mind once more. Had it been a kiss they had been about to share? What Gimli knew of elves—which wasn't a whole lot considering—was that they didn't take feelings of affection lightly. They felt more strongly than other beings, which is why they seemed so reserved to outsiders. They learned through centuries of living how to mask their true thoughts. And rarely would they ever give a straight answer to anything!

But Gimli knew from months of traveling with Legolas that the harder the stone the richer the treasure beneath. The elf was a passionate creature, even though he held himself in check. Lana seemed to be having a greater effect on him than Gimli initially realized.

Since the blossoming of their friendship, Legolas had been more open to everyone, including himself. He expressed his thoughts, smiled more, and took an active interest in Lana herself. Not that he could blame him. She was a fascinating woman.

But had that fascination turned into something more? Gimli tapped out a rhythm on his knee. It was difficult to say, but something was stirring between the two.

o0o

Lana found a sheltered spot in the tall grass near one of the ubiquitous rocky outcrops that dotted Rohan's plains. Laying down, she used her pack as a pillow. It wasn't very comfortable but she had since learned to do without comfort. Her mind was restless and was more concerned with all that had happened this day instead of the nominal aches of the body.

She resented Gimli's words, and she resented him. Her cheeks were still warm with her embarrassment. But she knew that wasn't fair. She had meant her words although they had been flung out rather flippantly. Can't take it then don't dish it out. Simple playground rules that still applied even now.

It wasn't really Gimli she was mad at…it was the panic she felt from his words. Was truly she smitten by Legolas? Was it so obvious? How could she not see it? She snorted. Maybe she was just fooling herself, ignoring the signs that were so blatantly obvious. But then she had thought that she put all notions of that nature behind her. So why did she feel a stab of disappointment when they were interrupted earlier?

She still felt it now. Brushing her fingers over her lips, she replayed the events in her head. She had been so close to kissing an elf! What would that have been like? She wondered if she would ever know. Then she tossed the thought away, doubting herself again. Maybe Legolas wasn't going to kiss her. Perhaps she had misread his intentions. It wouldn't be the first time. She fell back on her lack of knowledge about elves, but it was of little comfort.

Turning her head into her pack, she sighed and tried to sleep. Already she was missing the soft bed back in Edoras.

o0o

When dawn came, Lana offered to help the women with breakfast. She hated how she did this to get away from Gimli, but she told herself that it wasn't so much that she was being a coward, but that she needed time and space.

_Bullshit, Lana._ Shoving the annoying internal voice behind a heavy door in her mind she donned a mask of serenity.

Breakfast was very simple: bread and water. Since there was nothing to prepare, Lana carried a basket of bread for an elderly woman named Hannrin.

Hannrin was a highly respected elder, and the people greeted her warmly whenever they saw her. She handed out bread to everyone: the women and children as well as the older men who were no longer fit for fighting.

Lana had worked with the matron the night before when she helped prepare dinner. Hannrin was a shrewd thinker and saw between the lines easily. It was something Lana wished to aspire to when she was old and gray. Beauty was fleeting but a quick mind was far more valuable.

"They say you are from a land that none has heard of," Hannrin's keen eyes looked sideways at her.

Lana nodded, holding the basket steady as the old woman pulled out another loaf. "Yes. That's true."

She didn't elaborate. After the incident with Éowyn, Aragorn had warned Lana that it was best not to discuss where she hailed from at all. At least not until they could come up with something suitable to tell people. Lana had yet to figure out if she would choose some random Middle Earth village as her "home," or if she should create a plausible backstory about where her true home was. For now, she chose to keep her lips sealed.

"You have much to learn here, traveler." Hannrin's gray eyes looked her over. Handing another small loaf to a young boy, Hannrin' patted his head affectionately.

_More than you know,_ Lana thought with a grimace. Still an opportunity to learn and grow should never be wasted. And information was just as valuable as any other currency.

"Is it so obvious that I'm different?" She asked curiously. She was blond like these Rohirrim and had blue eyes. As long as she didn't open her mouth she thought she blended in quite well. But apparently she still stood out.

Hannrin smiled at the question, intending to answer it, but then frowned as she glanced down. "We've run out of bread," she noted. "Our work is done for now. Go to your companion. He waits for you."

She held out a wrinkled hand that had seen a lifetime of hard labor and pointed in the direction that they had come. Lana pivoted to see Legolas standing beside a wooden cart filled with foodstuffs. He was gazing at her with a warm smile on his face. Lana felt herself blush like a silly schoolgirl who had her crush pay attention to her.

A woman walking past dropped what she was carrying and Legolas bent to help her pick up the basket and the bread that had fallen out. Letting his gaze drift from Lana only for a moment.

She smiled as she watched him and her blush faded away. Legolas was forever a gentleman. She turned to bid Hannrin goodbye, but the old woman was already gone. Lifting a brow she shrugged and then walked towards Legolas. His smile grew as she approached.

_"Aurmaer,"_ he bid._ Good morning._

Lana nodded, her lips curving but her voice was strangely unreliable. She swallowed.

_"Lostennch mae?"_ His voice was smooth like silk. _You slept well?_

She shrugged and nodded again, even though she had not rested well. She had lain awake most of the night, listening to the sounds of the camp and thinking. As usual, her mind went in unrestrained circles like a pacing zoo animal.

"How was your watch?" She inquired softly.

"Uneventful." His eyes gleamed at seeing her cheeks turning pink once more.

"Well, that's a good thing."

"Indeed." He cleared his throat and for a moment, he felt nervous. Tension filled the gap in their conversation. Gripping his courage in a strangle hold, Legolas started again. "Gimli is riding Lady Éowyn's mare once more—"

"I'll ride with you." Lana interrupted before she could stop herself.

_Insert foot in mouth! Good grief Lana!_ Why had she agreed so easily?

She was nervous enough around Legolas as it was. Mentally cursing herself she wondered if she could retract her answer. But Legolas grinned broadly in delighted relief. It was too late now.

The Mirkwood elf was entirely too pleased that she would be joining him. He had missed her while he was on watch and had longed for morning to come so that he could see her again. He had been nervous that she might misconstrue what happened last night and use it as a barrier between them.

"But I will only do so if you promise me something," Lana continued capturing his attention.

He waited patiently for her to speak, a questioning look on his face.

"I want to ride in front today."

Legolas' brows lifted in surprise. "You wish to learn to ride?"

She nodded, biting her lower lip. "I used to ride. When I was small, but it's been years. I don't really know a lot about horses or how to ride them very well. I…this is my world now…I need to know." She told him honestly.

Legolas smiled warmly. "I shall teach you. Bring your pack and we shall go."

A short while later, Legolas assisted Lana into Arod's saddle. They were both aware of how his hands lingered on her waist longer than necessary. After securing her pack to the back of the saddle, Legolas mounted up behind her. Her quiver and bow made it awkward for him to fit comfortably behind her but he made due. He would gladly deal with the annoying weaponry if meant they still sat astride the same horse.

There was a moment of giddy panic when Lana realized that maybe this wasn't the best idea right now. The decision was half made because this was her world and she _did_ need to learn to ride properly; the other half was because she thought the concentration involved with riding might keep her thoughts off Legolas and his proximity to her. That was an epic fail. If anything, she was _more_ aware of him.

"Are you well?" He asked when he saw her skin pale. She nodded mutely. Gazing down, she slipped her right foot into the stirrup followed by the left.

"Keep your heels down and position the metal of the stirrup beneath the ball of your foot. This will help you sit more firmly in the saddle." Legolas instructed.

Lana nodded, vaguely remembering this from her childhood lessons. She pushed her heels down. Legolas reached forward and gathered the reins that lay on Arod's neck. Then he took her hands and threaded the leather through her fingers. The worn leather was supple to the touch.

"This is how you hold the reins."

Lana nodded, mentally memorizing how the reins slipped between her pinky and ring fingers on each hand, and how the rest of the flat leather strap came up her palms between her thumb and first fingers and flipped down between her two hands.

"Ok. I got it."

_"Maer."_

Legolas could sense her apprehension and he was proud of her for trying this. Just as he was relieved that she was not shying away from as he feared she might this morning.

Last night had left him both pleased and worried. Pleased that she would have kissed him had Gimli not interrupted, but worried that she might see the kiss they nearly shared as wrong or frightening when she had time to think by herself.

As an elf, he should feel that attempting to kiss her was wrong. But he did not. In fact, it did not feel wrong to him at all, but strangely _right_. Lana was a beacon of pure light in a time of darkness and uncertainty. Why wouldn't he desire her near him? Yet the feelings that she evoked were strong and pervasive. They seemed to eclipse all his reason.

All night during his watch he had agonized over what she might do with the coming dawn. He did not think he could handle losing her friendship. She was fast becoming something of an obsession for him. This alarmed him and he vowed to be more careful when dealing with the warm pleasant feelings that engulfed him while in her presence.

"Legolas?"

The fair-haired elf blinked. He had been so deep in thought that he had nearly forgotten where he was.

_"Goheno nin,"_ he said, blushing slightly under Lana's intent gaze. Immediately he returned to the task of helping her learn how to ride. "If you wish to go left you pull the left rein out to the left side."

His hand slipped over hers gently pulling her hand left. Arod moved his head and took one step left.

"And if you want to go right,"

"Pull to the right," she supplied, giving him a knowing smile.

He grinned at her as she pulled her right hand to the right. Obediently Arod took a step right, although he flicked an ear as if it say, _M__ake up your mind!_ Lana smiled and leaned forward to pat the stallion affectionately on the neck. She murmured in undertone words unknown to Legolas. He thought it must be her Italian language.

Both he and Arod found the foreign words soothing against their ears. Arod bobbed his head and nickered. Lana chuckled. The remainder of the lesson was simple enough. She was light on the reins and gentle in the saddle, and it seemed Arod had taken to her. This made teaching her to ride very simple for Legolas. He praised her highly saying that she already had skill in her horsemanship.

"Well, my grandfather used to breed race horses. My brother and I were taught to ride, but as we both got older we stopped riding altogether." She guided Arod down and around a gentle slope. "I guess it's like riding a bicycle. You never really forget."

"Riding a what?"

Lana suppressed a snort of humor and shook her head. The expression was unknown to Legolas, but he didn't bother her concentration as she negotiated a tight fit between the carts in front of them. They rode at a sedate walk, Lana sitting tall and proud in the saddle. Legolas was just behind her, his hands on his thighs a light smile on his face, pleased that she was happy.

"I heard that Gimli fell off Éowyn's mare yesterday."

Lana's concentration broke and she nearly dropped the reins when Legolas spoke. "Did he?" She said carefully. Re-gathering the reins she checked to make certain that she was holding them properly.

Legolas chuckled. "Aye. I heard the men speaking of it last night while I kept watch. He spoke too loudly and spooked the mare; ended up falling right off onto the ground. I wish I could have seen that."

Lana smiled, but it was a tad forced. It didn't last long either. This caused Legolas' smile to fade as well.

"What is it?"

Lana thinned her lips. "Nothing."

Legolas tilted his head trying to see her face. "There is something. I felt your mood change."

"Can you always sense what I am feeling?" She asked with some asperity.

"Not always," he told her, surprised by her tone. "There are times when you are unreadable; when you have managed to block what you feel from me."

Silently Lana vowed to work on this skill as often as she could. She hated being an open book.

"Something happened between yourself and Gimli."

"It's nothing," she told him, mentally cursing his intuition.

"Aye, it is something to have bothered you so," Legolas noted. "There is bitterness in your tone and your light mood disappeared when I mentioned his name."

Lana bit her tongue so she wouldn't swear out loud. Why couldn't he just leave it?

_"Trenaro nin,"_ he commanded gently. _Tell me_.

Lana grit her teeth. If she didn't tell him, he would only continue to badger her until she gave up the information he wanted.

Legolas noted Lana's stiff posture and how her jaw tightened. He thought she would refuse to speak but then she surprised him.

"He teased me. That is all." She said in taut tones that came out in such a rush that it forced Legolas to listen hard in order to understand her.

"He hurt you."

She sighed and shook her head stubbornly.

"Aye, he did." Legolas countered. "Of what did he tease you?"

"Legolas please; just let it be," she muttered in exasperation.

She glanced over her shoulder at him. But that was a mistake, and she wished she had not looked into his eyes. He was clearly upset and troubled, and her refusal to tell him made her feel guilty. _Damn your eyes!_

"I cannot let things lie when someone has hurt you," he replied. "Please tell me."

Lana shut her mouth firmly and turned back around. As if it was even possible she became more rigid. This time, he feared that he had pushed her too far and now she would not confide in him at all. However, whatever dam held back her emotions suddenly ruptured and her reply rushed out in a torrent of annoyance, anger, and embarrassment.

"It was just about last night, ok? Geez." She huffed with astringency.

Legolas did not allow her tone to bother him. She was trying to push him away again by hiding behind her fiery mood, and he would not stand for it.

"What about last night?" He pushed.

She threw her gaze skyward and laughed sardonically. "You cannot seriously be that naïve." She spat.

Legolas' frown deepened.

"Probably half the camp knows," she groused crossly.

Her cheeks were rapidly turning red and Legolas suddenly knew exactly what Gimli had teased her about. Did the dwarf have no manners? Lana did not give Legolas a chance to respond. She gave Arod a gentle tap with her heels and the stallion began to trot.

The Mirkwood elf felt anger welling up into his chest. He did not like that the dwarf had teased Lana. Especially about something so personal. It was awful enough that the dwarf had interrupted them in the first place, but now he sought to mock Lana?

Legolas felt himself grow angrier each time he rose and fell with Arod's movements. He knew that he should have been glad for the interruption. What he and Lana were about to do went against all that he had been taught. Elves did not mingle with mortals.

Yet he was the exception to that rule. He had come to love mortals as if they were elves. He loved them even though he knew that they would wither and die and leave him.

The thought of Lana aging and dying was something he did not wish to consider. Ever. He shifted closer to her. She, however, tensed and leaned forward and they rode in silence until midday.

"Legolas, who is Isildur?"

The question had come out of nowhere, but Legolas answered it as if they had been talking for hours.

"He was a King of Gondor very long ago. Where did you hear of him?"

"Someone mentioned that you were speaking to Isildur's heir. You know the king's heir?" She glanced over her shoulder speculatively. "I thought Gondor was ruled by a steward, not a king?"

Legolas marveled at the woman in front of him. No less than an hour ago she was moody and quiet, and now she was calmly asking questions as if nothing had happened.

"He is not a king. He is a lord. And you are correct. Gondor is not under the rule of a king, yet." He explained vaguely.

"So this lord is planning on showing up and proclaiming himself king?"

Legolas grimaced and chose his words carefully. "Perhaps not quite in those terms. He has yet to lay claim to his throne."

"I thought everyone here was from Rohan?"

"Perchance you should speak to another of this matter. One who has been to Gondor," He suggested, not liking where this discussion was headed.

"Legolas you obviously know this guy. Why won't you tell me who he is?"

Forcing himself to dismiss her hurt tone, he answered. "Because it is not my place."

Lana glanced back at him, and he knew that she would not give up. She could be just as stubborn as him.

"Please?"

This time, he dropped his gaze, unable to hold it. "Speak to Aragorn," he slipped hastily, and he clenched his jaw for allowing the name to fall from his lips.

Lana lifted a brow, her thoughts working like a machine. Then she gasped. "He's the heir isn't he? Aragorn's a prince?" She exclaimed in a rush.

Legolas sighed and shook his head, returning his gaze to her. "Nay Cairnmel. Aragorn is not a prince. But he is destined to be the King of Gondor."

Her mouth fell open and her grip on the reins loosened in her shock. She caught them just before she dropped them.

"Did—did you just say _king?"_

"Aye." Legolas felt her complete astonishment as well as mortification.

Lana had always viewed Aragorn like a brother. She had thrown grapes at him in Lothlórien and had lost her temper in front of him, and she had shared her tears and insecurities with him. He was the first person that she truly opened up to in this world. He had the privilege of seeing who she was before anyone else—the good and the bad.

What an ignorant fool he must have thought her to be! After all the ridiculous and stupid things she had done and said in a future king's presence—what must he think of her? Lana felt deeply hurt now. How could he have not told her who he was? Legolas had. Did he still not trust her after all this time? Lana had thought them as close as siblings, but apparently Aragorn did not share this sentiment.

The elf behind her was not insensitive—he knew that she was hurt. "He did not tell you for reasons of safety," he explained, immediately defending the Ranger. "Before we reached Rohan the knowledge that he is heir to the throne of Gondor was very dangerous. It is still dangerous. Do not feel anger or hurt at him because he did not tell you."

Lana's whirling emotions darkened. Had she not _proven_ herself trustworthy? And now Legolas was telling her what to feel and not feel.

Aggrieved she replied stiffly. "How can I not? He kept things from me, just like you did. He is like a brother to me, and he kept _all_ of this from me."

She concentrated on her anger, using it like a shield against hurt she was feeling.

"You know the reasons that Aragorn and I kept our titles from you are one and the same. These are perilous days," he replied, gently stroking her hair behind her ear.

He tilted his head forward and regarded her intently. He could feel the red-hot anger pouring from her. And he knew her well enough to know it was a ruse.

Lana's lips drew further down and she pulled away from his touch, not wanting to be soothed. Legolas sighed. This was the second time today they had been at odds. She was being obstinate but he could not fault her for it. With how much value he and his companions placed in trust, it must seem like a slap in the face to not be included within their closest confidences. Legolas would have readily told her all, but it was not his place.

He meant to placate her but he tensed suddenly. _"Daro_ Arod," he commanded flatly. _Stop_.

By the tone of his voice, Lana knew something was up. She pulled back gently on the reins.

"Whoa, Arod." The stallion came to a halt and pawed at the earth. "What is it?" She asked as Legolas dismounted swiftly.

"Stay with the others," he ordered her firmly. "You will be safe with them." His eyes bored into hers for only a moment before he tensed again, and then he looked toward the road. "I will travel ahead to be certain that the way is clear."

"I'll go with you," she told him despite her piqued feelings. Legolas was on the alert and it made her anxious.

She watched his eyes dart back and forth and saw that his jaw was set. Something was definitely wrong and she did not want to be alone.

"Nay. You stay with the main group." He reached up, covered one of her hands with his and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I will return."

He stared into her eyes and when her mouth began to open in opposition, he did not give her a chance to argue. Releasing her hand he tore off across the plains, causing many in the group to pause and observe him with mixed curiosity and worry.

Lana watched him go as a horrible foreboding feeling settled in her gut. She saw him race to the top of the rocky hill and stop to gaze around. She heard and then saw two of Théoden's soldiers ride after him to see what was happening.

From his place next to Éowyn, Aragorn paused. His eyes scanned the horizon seeking what had alerted Legolas.

There was a sudden cry and all eyes at the front of the group saw the ghastly beast. It was some sort of large wolfish monster, but it was larger than any wolf Lana had ever seen—and more hideous than a hyena. On its back rode one of those repulsive orc creatures.

Despite the distance, Lana could see the animal's enormous yellow teeth as it clamped down on one of the riders. The sound of bone cracking made Lana grimace though it must have been in her mind. The beast was too far for her to hear such things. But she heard the soldier's shrieking.

The animal shook the man as if he was nothing more than a ragdoll. Lana gasped as she realized it was Hama—the soldier who had greeted them first in Edoras.

She was about to yell for someone to do something when Legolas went tearing down the slope firing arrows. His shots were true and he slayed the animal. Closing in on the orc, which had been thrown from its saddle, Legolas drew one of his pearly handled long knives and slit the creature's throat.

He gritted his teeth and kicked the creature over. "A scout!" He shouted back.

Aragorn, who had run forward to see the commotion, stopped dead in his tracks when he heard Legolas' words. Where there was a scout, there was bound to be a scouting party. He turned and ran down the hill at full speed. Horses snorted and tossed their heads at his speedy flight. Lana held the reins in one hand and the saddle horn with the other as Arod pranced about excitedly.

"WARGS!" Aragorn shouted. "We're under attack!"

His words were like oil on a fire. The people erupted into frantic screaming. Terror ripped through the people of Rohan. Théoden ordered his riders to the base of the hill.

"Whoa! Easy, Arod! Easy now!" Lana tried to keep her voice calm for the stallion's sake.

She at last managed to get down without falling out of the saddle. Arod was charged and ready for action, and there was no way she could handle him like this. Quickly she grabbed her pack from the back of the saddle and held Arod's reins tightly.

Gimli appeared not two moments after she touched the earth.

"Get me up there I'm a rider!" He cried out. Several soldiers helped him into the saddle and in his haste he nearly fell off.

"Charge forward!" Gimli ordered, pulling on the reins. Arod moved backward instead and snorted. "I said charge forward!" The dwarf commanded, kicking the stallion's sides.

Tossing his head Arod managed to pull some slack in the reins and he leapt forward like a bolt. Gimli nearly fell a second time. Lana watched him in stupefied fear. Aragorn then rushed up to her, grabbing her arm as he ran towards Hasufel. Lady Éowyn held the stallion's reins.

"Go with Éowyn!" He commanded her. "Help her in any way that you can to get these people to safety!" He shouted above the din.

He mounted up in a flash. Lana automatically nodded. Her heart was hammering away but for a moment her mind was clear. She had a task and she wouldn't fail in it. She watched Aragorn and Hasufel join the horses and riders already charging up the hill.

From the corner of her eye, Lana caught Éowyn staring longingly after Aragorn before she turned and started issuing orders.

"Head to the lower ground! Stay together!" She shouted.

Lana was lost to the sight of horses and riders galloping in the opposite direction. Éowyn grabbed her arm tightly, snapping her from the moment. The woman's eyes were hard and determined.

"Help me!" She commanded.

Animated Lana immediately began pointing and shouting out Éowyn's commands. She helped anyone who struggled past her. She turned once, her heart in her throat as she heard the sound of barking, growling, and shouting. She saw Legolas fire an arrow from where he stood on the crest of the hill. Then the elf leapt onto Arod in an impossible way. That was all she saw of him as he was swept away in a sea of soldiers and horses.

She turned away and went back to herding the frightened people down the hill. Firmly she blocked out any thought of losing the men she loved so much. Aragorn had given her a task and she would not fail him. She would do what the future King of Gondor asked and do it well so that he would be proud of her when they returned.

Lana vowed to never be useless again.

* * *

_How about that? _

_As always thanks for reading! _


	29. Anchor

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story. **

I make no claim to Tolkien's works_._ I also give credit to Cormak3032.

* * *

**Chapter 28: Anchor**

The journey to Helm's Deep passed by much more quickly with the task of guiding the denizens of Edoras to the stone fortress. With something to occupy her mind, it was easy to forget the time. Lana found herself a magnet for three children who had become separated in the rush to escape the warg riders.

A boy of six, a girl of seven, and a wee lass who was just four years old. Frieda was her name and she had perfect corkscrew curls of the brightest blond. She had latched on to Lana right away when she found her sobbing alone with her brother who looked bewildered and annoyed.

Gram, her older brother, was now feeling much braver with Lana by his side. When the excitement had settled he asked her endless questions about her sword, then her bow, and was she a warrior, and how did she become a warrior when she was a woman, and on and on.

Léofwyn, the lovely girl with red hair had sighed and rolled her eyes dramatically.

"Of course ladies can be warriors!" She had told her friend with an asperity that made Lana smile. "Our Lady Éowyn is the Shield Maiden of Rohan!"

Léofwyn was very articulate for her age, and Lana wondered if she was some noblewoman's daughter. Gram had stuck his tongue out at her, then petulantly asked if women were such good warriors, why weren't there more of them.

Lana had settled the dispute by telling them a story about the famed Boudicca, warrior queen of the Iceni. The children had listened in awe. And so she had entertained them all the way to Helm's Deep with stories, and even songs about famous female heroes.

These children managed to do what no one had been able for well over a year: they got her to sing out loud—for an audience. And while she _had_ sung a lament for Boromir, no one had heard it. That had been the case for anytime she did allow a song to pass her lips. At home she had retreated further into herself, and she started to sing less and less, until she stopped singing completely.

Aidan had tried and failed numerous times to get her to sing as it was one of her favorite pastimes, but even he had given up in the end. Depression was an insidious thing.

But now, with these children facing the terrors inherent in this world, were successful. Lana took upon herself to lighten their hearts in anyway she could. And singing children's songs was a perfect way to engage them. Little Frieda, who leaned against her shoulder and sucked her tiny thumb, had stared up at her with baby blue eyes filled with child wonder.

At one point she lifted her small head, pulled out her thumb and said, "You sing like elf."

"You think so?" Lana said surprised; her lips curled in amusement.

Frieda nodded against her neck. "You're as pretty too," she mumbled.

Gram gave his baby sister an annoyed look. "She's not an _elf_, Frieda."

At this the little curly-top pulled back slightly to looked Lana over. She continued to suck her thumb thoughtfully, then she pulled it out and said, "She is." And with that, she laid her head back on Lana's shoulder.

The people nearby had smiled at Lana and the children. Even Éowyn nodded in approval. After many miles, they came to a crest of land.

"There it is! Helm's Deep!" A woman cried in relief.

Her voice was followed by many other voices echoing her. Lana paused her story about Cleopatra to look up. The mountains rose about them and down in a deep wide ravine there was a stone structure with a tall tower.

The mountains around the fortress dwarfed it, and Lana did not feel so certain that it deserved its renown.

"Is it not beautiful, Lana?" Gram asked holding her hand and jumping up and down in excitement.

_"Lady_ Lana," Léofwyn corrected with an imitation of a noblewoman.

Gram scowled at the redhead but then looked uncertainly up at Lana.

"Don't worry, Gram." She soothed. "I'm not much for titles."

The boy grinned and then stuck his tongue out at Léofwyn behind Lana's back.

As they approached the keep the walls appeared to grow and Lana realized just how massive the fortress truly was. _Perhaps I need to revise my initial judgment._ A bridge made of brick, stone, and mortar led up to massive wooden doors that were at least forty hand-spans wide.

Close up Lana could truly appreciate the solid craftsmanship of the fortress. It was now believable that this place could withstand any force that sought to breech it. The thick stonewall reminded her of the stark medieval castles in Britain.

The wall was wide enough that three ranks of soldiers could stand on the battlements and still have room enough for runners behind. There were gaps in the wall from where archers could rain down arrows on their foes below. _Archers like Legolas_…She thought grimly.

A deep well of concern yawned within her. A tingling in her feet made her toes curl. She wondered how her companions were fairing. But she did not have time to wallow in worry. She let Gram tug her hand while Léofwyn did her best to be lady-like and confident like Éowyn—and her newfound idol—Lana.

The mothers of the children were found, and they cried in relief at finding their errant offspring. They thanked Lana profusely, wishing to repay her kindness, but Lana replied that she was more than happy to help.

Frieda was at first reluctant to let go of her. But with a singular look from her mother, the little girl immediately relinquished her hold. Lana remembered getting that same look as a child and hid a smile.

"Ye wouldna believe it, milady, but this one is more impish than her wild, rascal of a brother." The young mother had said, holding Frieda against her hip. "Thank ye, milady. Come along Gram!"

Léofwyn's mother, as graceful as a swan, practically glided over the rough stone road. It was clear that the little girl worshiped her mother. She copied her every movement. It was also now evident where Léofwyn's eloquent speech came from.

"Many thanks, my lady," the woman had said curtsying. "I feared I had lost her."

Once the children were safely reunited, Lana sought out Éowyn to see what else she could do to help her. She trailed the lady for awhile but felt more like an annoying shadow than any real help.

The little food that had been brought was already in storage and most of the people were settling in. Éowyn eventually turned to her perfunctorily and said to make herself comfortable. Then in almost military style precision, she had turned on her heel and went off to inspect the fortress and the people who were already there.

Lana wandered about, deciding to explore the wall and upper levels. She forced herself to study the structural integrity and not dwell on how her dear ones were fairing. There was a lot to see, and were she in her right mind she would have been mingling and talking to people. It's what her journalistic training would have her do. But her mind was too agitated

Her fingers drummed on the hilt of her sword as she paced about the bastions. She thought she might look out over the wall and see if perhaps the soldiers were returning, but she wasn't the only one with that idea.

A messy cue of people was pushing to get up to the wall and Lana took one look and turned around. She was not about to stand in line for that. Rather sardonically, it reminded her of a line for an attraction. This inevitably led to thoughts of home.

She remembered a rock that jutted out over the sea in Costa Rica, and how she and her brother had stood in line so they could jump off. In her mind she could hear Aidan's laugh, and see his smile. His blue eyes, just like hers, crinkling with good humor.

_"C'mon Lana! Jump!"_

_She grimaced nose wrinkling in severe displeasure. "You know I don't like heights."_

_Aidan laughed. "You're such a wuss! Come on! I'll jump with you."_

_He latched onto her hand._

_"What are you doing!—Wait!"_

He had pulled her after him and they launched into the air like Daedalus and Icarus. For a moment they both felt like they had wings. Then the blue sea rushed up as they fell. Surfacing Lana immediately started swearing and splashing her brother. Her heart had been racing madly. Aidan laughed uproariously and splashed her back.

Lana rubbed her face trying to shake off the longing for her brother. _I miss you, Aidan…Mama…Dad…Please know that I love you._ She mentally sent out her love into the great expanse of time and space hoping against hope they might sense that she was ok and that she was alive.

She sighed wondering pessimistically how long she _would_ survive in this world. Roving the shifting crowd with her eyes, Lana paced in circles. There was nothing for her to do but wait. She felt trapped, like a tiger pacing its cage. Back and forth she went along the wall's base. Finally finding an empty step out of the way she sat.

An hour passed, moving so slowly that Lana thought it must surely be later than it was. Without consciously realizing it, she had chewed all her fingernails clean off and had started biting her fingers. Quickly she stopped, pressing her hands into the skirts of her riding habit.

She had never been separated from her companions for such a long time in a situation like this; and while she knew there was no reason to worry—she still did. With nothing to do her mind ran in circles ranging from speculating what those wolfish animals were to how Legolas managed to mount Arod in such an unbelievable fashion. The stallion had been running flat out after all.

Then her over active imagine supplied gory images of bite wounds, missing limbs and dangling entrails—it was enough to make her hold her head as if sick. Annoyed with herself, she rubbed her temples and forced the dark thoughts away. _They'll be fine. They're warriors for goodness sake!_

A shout dislodged her mental monologue.

The men were returning someone cried, and as if shot from a canon, people began to rush to the courtyard. Again Lana found herself behind a wall of people, so she remained on her step using its height to her advantage. Her nerves hummed with excitement and expectation.

Several long minutes passed and then there was another shout to "Make way! Make way for the king!" Lana's blood began to surge excitedly through her body. Her nervous tension soared to a new height. If the king was entering Helm's Deep then so too were Legolas, Aragorn, and Gimli!

Unable to remain still she pushed her way down the stairs, threading through the people. Imprudently she ignored the angry outbursts and curses thrown her way. It had been well over six hours since she last saw her beloved companions and she was anxious to see them. She needed to assure herself that they were all right and alive.

The king and his men came clattering into the courtyard, their mounts winded and sweating. The men too, looked tired and worn. Some of the soldiers had clearly been injured—some more grievously than others. The king dismounted while the Lady Éowyn swept up to his side. They began to speak in earnest tones. Théoden helped an injured soldier off his mount who was favoring his right arm. Then he shouted orders for the wounded to be tended posthaste.

Lana saw Derngar and the soldier named Gamling dismount their horses and follow the king. Derngar glanced to his right as he swung out of the saddle. Lana followed his stern gaze and caught sight of Legolas and Gimli. Her heart soared filling with sweet release and joy. The hours of waiting suddenly burst like a bubble. Heady relief infused her entire body.

The elf sat astride Arod, using the added height to his advantage. He lifted in the stirrups slightly. His eyes quickly searched through the crowd surrounding him. It was all he could do to keep his composure. Feverishly he scanned the faces in the crowd. _Where is she?_

Gimli had dismounted and was now speaking with Éowyn. The woman appeared bewildered. Lana assumed that the Shield Maiden had learned some ill news about the men she knew. Lana couldn't summon the necessary sympathy at the moment. All that mattered was that her family had returned to her.

"Legolas!" She shouted loudly.

Her voice echoed and several people turned to stare at her. Heedless of the gawking stares, Lana flew down the remaining steps and into the courtyard, shoving people out of her way.

The elf heard her before he saw her. The sound of her voice was like a sweet song to his ears. He caught sight of her rushing down the stairs and he dismounted quickly. He was barely aware as one of the soldiers led Arod away toward the subterranean stables.

Lana ran the last few paces to Legolas. Without a second thought, she launched herself into his arms. He caught her easily and pulled her tightly against him. His arms wrapped tightly around her and he buried his face into her neck and hair. Inhaling deeply he took in her scent, which was mingled with dirt and sweat. It didn't matter. The sight and feel of her helped sooth some of the anguish that was ripping his soul apart. His grip tightened around her.

Lana drew back quickly, her hands cupping his pale face, as her eyes looked him over zealously for wounds. Other than a few insignificant scrapes on his neck and dirt on his face, she found nothing. The tension from the last few days was gone and in its place was deep concern and pungent relief.

"Thank God you're alright," she told him emotionally as she pulled him to her tightly.

Derngar watched with disgust as Lana threw herself at the elf. The elf returned her embrace with fervor. It was too much to bear for the young man. He turned away and followed his king, unable to look at the sickeningly sweet sight for a moment longer.

Legolas lowered his head, resting his cheek on her hair. He pulled her even tighter against him, digging his fingers into her body. He thanked Elbereth that she was safe and alive in his arms. A faint tremor ran through him but he only increased his hold as if she alone could keep him together.

Lana pressed her cheek firmly against his chest, breathing in his scent, pressing her fingers deeply into his back. She curled them around his quiver harness, desperate to never let him go again.

"When I saw you and Gimli ride in with the king it was the most wonderful thing I've seen in a long time." She murmured against the soft suede of his jerkin.

Lifting her head to look back into his eyes, she inhaled sharply. How she missed it she didn't know, but Legolas was in severe distress. Pain emanated from him like radiation from a reactor. It infused the very air around them. Lana swallowed. Without a second thought she cupped his face in her hands, instinctively wanting to sooth his pain away.

She had never witnessed so much suffering in someone's eyes before—not like this. It was both bewildering and frightening. Particularly since she had witnessed some of life's most horrific and gruesome realities back home. But this…

Legolas' dark brows were furrowed deeply, and he appeared as much in physical pain as emotional. His eyes were muted and dull but laced through with a grief so potent that Lana felt the inane urge to burst into tears.

"What is it?" She demanded worriedly.

He didn't offer any words, so Lana looked away trying to see the answer in the faces of the other men. Gimli still spoke with Éowyn, and most of the other soldiers were disbanding, leading their horses. Others limped away with their loved ones. Lana scanned the soldiers thoroughly, a frown forming on her face. Time seemed to slow and she felt every beat of her heart acutely.

Someone was missing.

"Legolas?" She returned her gaze to his tortured eyes. "Where…where is Aragorn?"

The elf winced at the name and turned his head away. His eyes closed as unbearable agony flooded him anew.

Witnessing this Lana's eyes filled with tears. She inhaled stiffly, her breaths coming in shallow bursts. Without warning she started feeling light-headed. She felt as if she was hovering out of her body and looking down on the scene. She could see herself; skin pale, eyes wide but pupils narrowed pinpricks. She saw herself fall as her knees buckled without warning.

Legolas caught her before she hit the stone street. Pulling her upright, he held her securely. He saw that they were attracting a good amount of attention. Part of the crowd still lingered and they regarded the elf and woman nosily.

_"Tolo ta pedo ah nin."_ Legolas beckoned softly. _Come and speak with me._

Stoically he hid his grief from the people of Rohan. Keeping his arm wrapped around her waist he guided Lana adroitly away from the crowd.

For her part, Lana was unaware of anything. She didn't notice the path they took or even what direction they directed went. She felt physically ill…and numb. She couldn't see or hear anything. Only her internal monologue played like a broken record in her head.

_No. Not Aragorn. He can't fall. It's not possible. No. Not Aragorn…he can't be dead. Aragorn…Aragorn…_

Legolas led her down a set of long winding stone stairs to a small side room that was connected to an armory. It was a dark, dismal place filled with broken weapons and cobwebs. It smelled of mold and mildew, but it was the only place he could find that was not dreadfully overcrowded with men, women, and children. He wished to grieve with Lana away from the prying eyes of others.

The elf moved old wooden shields from a dusty wooden bench and guided her to sit. She was hardly aware of anything. Legolas began to pace in front of her. Lana eventually drew her arms around her middle and sat hunched over.

After pacing several times through the room, Legolas moved to sit beside her. He was in tremendous agony, but the sight of this woman alive and well before him eased the pain somewhat. However when she looked up at him with such a lost forlorn expression, his pain came back doubled.

He took her hands, running his thumbs over the tips of her fingers. Then he drew her toward him, desperately needing to feel her close to him—to reassure himself that she was alive. She rested her cheek on his shoulder as one of his hands moved up and down her arm in a repetitive and mindless motion.

They sat thusly for several long moments before Lana lifted her head and gazed at Legolas. Inhaling unevenly, she found her voice at last.

"Is…is he…?"

She could not bring herself to say the word, and Legolas realized that he would not speak it aloud either. It was too painful; too final. He peered into her cerulean eyes.

"It appears so," he whispered.

Her eyes welled with tears and her lip trembled. "How?" She choked out.

"I did not see it happen," Legolas admitted softly. He began to stroke her long hair trying to sooth himself as much as her.

"We did not see his body." Legolas' brows lowered over his eyes as he painfully relived finding the pendant. "We…we only learned that he fell from a cliff a terribly far distance into a river."

Lana covered her mouth, horrified. "You're…_sure?"_

Legolas reached into his tunic and opened his palm. There in his hand lay the silver pendant of the Evenstar.

Lana shook her head in disbelief. Aragorn would never be without the pendant. Not unless something dreadful had happened. Legolas tucked it away. It felt heavy and awkward in his hands.

"It is difficult for me to believe his…passing to be true," Legolas told her.

A surge of wild emotion shot through Lana. "This is bullshit!" She flared loudly startling the elf. "Absolutely fucking bullshit!"

She shot to her feet and kicked at a pile of shields in a sudden fit of rage. The unsteady heap fell clattering all over the floor. Legolas' eyes grew wide.

"He led us out of Moria, trained me—the worst student of weapons ever! Then he killed a shit ton of orcs at Amon Hen; and then he ran all the way until we met the Rohirrim, got us horses, and not once—_not ONCE_ did he ever falter." She grew more agitated and animated with each word.

"He destined to be king for fuck's sake! And now…now we just have to accept that he's _gone?!_ That he we lost him to a fall off a—a_ cliff?!_"

Legolas tilted his head, amazed at her display. He peered into her face as if seeing her anew.

"Aye, it does not seem possible. He is too strong for such a…fate." His voice trembled.

He cursed himself for his control was slipping. The death of his kinsmen due to the evils of Dol Guldur in Mirkwood and the death of numerous friends in the border guard had never invoked such an open emotion in him. The Ranger meant more to him than he initially realized. Or Lana's wayward passions were affecting him.

"Why?" She burst out, throwing her hands up wildly. "It's not fair! He was to be king! Why do the good always have to _die!?"_ She whirled around and paced like a cagey animal.

Legolas watched her with growing concern. She suddenly halted, her back to him. "I am tired of losing the people that I _love,"_ she whispered harshly.

Lana tried not to cry. She had been crying entirely too much lately, but there was no help for it. She loved Aragorn as her surrogate brother. The thought of _never_ seeing him again was too much to bear now. Not after all she had lost.

The combined weight of grief old and new forced her to her knees. An ugly sob thrust itself from the depths of her cracking soul. Holding her head in her hands she began to cry uncontrollably. And once it began it did not stop.

The sound of her anguish tore at the elf's already fragile heart. Legolas immediately went to her, scooping her into his arms. He stroked her hair as she wept bitterly into her hands.

He did not attempt to make her stop. Were he not raised to be a warrior with schooled emotions, he would have cried along with her. Picking her up with gentle ease he returned them both to the bench. He held her tightly, his fingers still stroking the hair from her face. Then acting on instinct, he pressed his lips to her forehead. Lana lowered her hands slowly, the tears streaming down her face as she sniffed. She looked at him, heartbroken. Legolas then pressed his lips to her cheek and kissed away her salty tears.

His gentle ministrations caused her tears to fall faster, but he did not cease. Brushing back the hair from her shoulders he kissed the underside of her jaw and then her neck beneath her earlobe. He felt her heartbeat pulsing beneath his mouth. It quickened and he lingered there, placing gentle kisses on her tender skin.

He knew not what drove him to do this. He only knew that the agonizing pain within eased when he touched her in this way and heard her soft gasps of surprise. His actions and her soft sounds sent a blaze spiraling through his belly into his loins. It spread like wildfire throughout his body, threatening to consume him from the inside out. With this fire came a numbing sensation of the pain that sought to disintegrate him.

Lana's cries faded and she inhaled sharply as he breathed against her skin. Gradually Legolas lifted his head and pulled his lips from her before the fervor within him caused him to lose all coherent thought. He forced himself to be still, his head resting against hers. His heart was kicking against his chest, stilting his breathing.

Exhausted from her sobbing, Lana shifted to rest her head on Legolas' shoulder. Her skin burned with white-hot flame where the elf's lips had touched her and it bled through her entire being making her body hum. It was a curious thing, this dual sensation of deep gut-wrenching pain and effervescent pleasure. His caresses had been so gentle, so intimate and soothing, that they had irrationally made her weep even harder.

She waited several long moments until her pulse had slowed and her breathing evened. Then she lifted her head from Legolas' shoulder and dared to peer into his face.

He still appeared to be in pain, but heartfelt concern marked his fair features. Concern and something else Lana didn't comprehend shone in his eyes. What she did not realize was that her eyes mirrored his.

"Do you really think that he's…gone?" She croaked softly.

Her voice sounded alien to her. It was raw and thick, and it cracked on the end of her words. Her head swam from Aragorn's absence and Legolas' touch. Her head felt thick as if she was simultaneously drugged and hung over. Certain things were sharp in her mind, like the sizzling of her skin, the scent of Legolas and the room they were in; but her vision seemed to blur as time elongated in weird ways. All of this seemed surreal. She gazed downward and toyed with the collar of Legolas' tunic, unable to look him in the eye any longer.

Legolas brushed his fingers across her face and pushed a few strands of her hair behind her ear. _"Ú-istan."_

She shuddered and swallowed hard. "What do you believe in your heart?" She whispered, resting her hand over his.

She dared to stare into his pale blue eyes. Legolas hung his head for a moment, her gaze too potent for him to hold.

"That I am foolish to harbor hope in my heart," he admitted softly.

"You feel hope?" She sat up straighter. Her tone sounded a fraction lighter and Legolas sensed hope arise in her. He swallowed and lifted his eyes to regard her.

"Aye," he whispered truthfully.

Lana leaned against him, boneless, lost in the thought of hope.

Legolas pulled her roughly into his lap. He could not stop himself as he pressed his face into her hair. A wave of intense feeling washed over him that was nameless and powerful. He could not comprehend his own actions and he did not attempt to. Lana did not protest. She welcomed whatever embrace he sought to give her and gave him one of her own. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held onto him as if he alone could anchor her to reality.

All feelings of tension and the uneasiness from days past should have tripled in intensity, but they did not. They were lost, drifting, and what remained was need.

At this moment, the Prince of Mirkwood, son of the Woodland King, and a mortal woman, an American and former war correspondent from London knew how important the other was. They were each a ballast, a lifeline, and a comforting weight that held them to the earth. It was something neither of them intended to let vanish into the cold murky waters of loss and despair.

Despite the hope he held on to, Legolas was still acutely troubled and deeply pained. Aragorn had been his friend, and he loved the man as a brother. He most likely would never see Ranger again and that did not sit well with him. There was a gaping hole in his heart that was gasping to be filled.

Lana shifted in his arms and Legolas' thoughts turned to her. The knowledge that one day he would lose her as well caused a soft moan of pain to escape his chest.

Lana was surprised by the noise. It sounded as if someone had shoved a knife through Legolas' heart. She tried to look up at him, but he gripped her tighter. In fact, it was actually painful. She was immobile, locked in his embrace.

It did not matter how close she was, for it was not close enough for him. That space in his heart was crying out for fulfillment, not realizing that it had always been empty. Nor did his heart understand what it was looking for. All Legolas knew was that the feel of her warm breathing body against him was comforting beyond logical reason. He did not attempt to wonder or ask why this was. All that mattered was that she was here with him, in his arms, her heart beating next to his. Somehow, just by touching her, the great pain in his soul was tempered.

Legolas continued to hold her, his slender fingers once more finding her hair. He cradled her in his arms, reveling in the comfort her presence afforded him; and he clung to the slender hope that Aragorn was not dead and gone.

He had no idea how much time had passed. But he could tell from the sound of Lana's breathing that she had fallen asleep. Her grief pushed her mind to retreat from the waking world. He wished he could do the same, but sleep would not come for him anytime soon. Even now his mind worked in a dulled frenzy, not releasing him into blissful oblivion.

He held her for a long while after this, until he knew that he must rise. He needed fresh air to clear his confused and troubled mind. Gingerly he laid Lana down on the bench and tried to disentangle her. It was difficult to do so without waking her. Her arms were still locked around his neck and one of her hands managed to wrap around a large strand of his hair.

It was a miracle that he was able to set her down without disturbing her. He managed it, though, and Lana remained peacefully oblivious. She curled up, her hand reaching blinding for something that wasn't there. But she didn't awaken. Instead she folded in on herself like a cat braving cold weather.

Legolas knelt beside her, his fingers never leaving her hair. She held his eyes captive. He gazed at her until he was certain that he had memorized all there was to see.

Everything was happening all wrong. Aragorn should not have died. He was to be the King of Gondor. What would happen now? Who would they follow?

Gandalf had gone to find the Marshal of the Mark. The Ring was in the hands of a hobbit too far ahead to track. The path of protecting the Ring-bearer had been lost to them for weeks now.

Legolas looked away, his eyes falling upon the foreign markings of the Rohirrim. The intricate golden swirls and horse designs littered the room on shattered shields and rent armor.

What would they do? Where would they go? What place did an elf from the north, a stubborn dwarf, and a misplaced mortal maiden have here in Rohan?

Lana murmured something in her sleep drawing Legolas' attention once more. He watched her for a moment, enthralled by the sight of her. Her flaxen hair had fallen free of its bindings and it spilled loosely across her shoulder and drifted down the side of the bench like a golden waterfall.

Her skin had lost its reddish hue from crying leaving her unnaturally pale in the dim light. Her eyes were closed. She looked completely at peace...almost dead. Unnerved Legolas had to reassure himself that she was breathing. His thoughts were morbid.

He longed for peace, but that seemed a dream and nothing more. War loomed ahead. He could sense its long, devastating fingers reaching toward Rohan. Evil stirred and gave no pretense of retreating. The end was coming.

Leaning close to her, Legolas pressed his lips to Lana's temple one last time. Then the Mirkwood Prince stepped away to the doorway. He braced himself against the frame of the door and cast a lingering look to Lana before he closed his eyes. He faced the west.

_"Eru, anno nin bellas, bronwë a tortha. Ú-istan man an caro,"_ he whispered. _God, give me strength, endurance and control. I know not what to do._

Opening his eyes, he glanced at Lana once more. Then he looked away, and stepped through the door and walked on towards an unknown destination.

* * *

_As always, thanks for reading._


	30. Deepest Grief, Darkest Night

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.**

I make no claims on Tolkien's works. I also give credit to Cormak3032.

* * *

**Chapter 29: From Deepest Grief Into Darkest Night**

Lana shifted uneasily in her sleep instinctively craving the warmth that had been against her. But her hand only swept through cold, empty air. Straightaway her eyes snapped open with a jerk. Blinking in the dim light, she scanned her surroundings.

There was a heart pounding moment before she recalled where she was. Swallowing hard, she levered herself upright. Her head throbbed painfully and she gripped it lest it fell off her neck. The feeling was almost like being hung over. Holding her forehead, she breathed deliberately through the shooting headache.

"Legolas?" Her call was hardly anything more than a plaintive mew.

Gazing around the dim room for some sign of him she was rewarded with silence. A shiver cased her to draw her knees to her chest.

"Legolas?" She tried again, stronger this time.

But there was no answer.

A single low burning candle barely lit the chamber, and it cast strange shapes and shadows on the walls. The room was freezing and had a haunted feel about it. All the broken weaponry and many cobwebs made it feel like a forgotten tomb. Unbidden thoughts of Moria returned to her along with memories one too many horror movies.

Clutching her Lórien cloak in her hands, Lana picked up her backpack, bow, and quiver, which she had unthinkingly discarded in her grief. With caution she moved to the doorway, listening. It was difficult to hear anything above the incessant knocking of her heart. She thought she heard dull movement beyond the door. When she entered the next room she realized that it was an armory. In her dazed, grief-induced state she had not paid attention to where Legolas had led her.

The stone walls were lined with row upon row of sharply tipped spears, reinforced shields, and other various weaponry. Helms and chainmail lay about in great abundance, looking like deflated figures. Swords were being sorted through on a long table by a handful of soldiers.

"Um, excuse me," Lana said hesitantly.

The soldiers shifted abruptly to her, eyes wide and brows lifted in astonishment at her sudden appearance.

"What are you doing here? You should be preparing to enter the caves," one of them told her. He was heavier set and taller than the rest. He was also older, the gray in his beard and hair a testament to the years he witnessed.

Lana pursed her lips at his remark. "I'm just looking for my friend. He's an elf, long blond hair, gray cloak. Have you seen him?"

"An elf? He is not here. Must be on the upper level." The man told her dismissively.

"And how do I get to the upper level?" Lana inquired with a bit more force.

The man looked back at her as if surprised by her tenacity and probably her ignorance. "Up the stairs!" He quipped in annoyance. Then he returned to his task. "Check them over well!" He ordered. "Lives are at stake!"

Lana glowered at this short-tempered response, but she left knowing that these soldiers were not going to be helpful. They clearly had other matters on their minds. Pushing through the heavy door to the other side of the armory she found the stairs.

She counted them as she went up. _One…two…three…four…_ She counted to ten before she reached a fork in the path. Two additional sets of stairs veered off to the right and left. The sound of horses neighing and stomping made her decide to take the right set of stairs. Perhaps there was a way outside.

She moved without much thought. In her heart was a seeping hole that was vomiting with bitter grief. Aragorn was dead. And Legolas had left her alone in that horrible dark room. She was alone. And lost apparently. She kept walking.

The soldier's words about women and caves drifted through her scattered thoughts. She felt very flummoxed and wished for a warm soft bed and a bottle of Jameson in which to drown her sorrows in.

_Aragorn is dead._

It was strange how she waffled from wild grief to numbed nothingness. Everything felt slow and heavy as if she were drugged.

Turning a corner she saw many horses standing along a tall wall and tied to a rope that was parallel to the ground. She caught sight of a guard dressed in full royal armor who stood tall and straight with a shield and spear.

Stepping up to him she licked her dry lips. "Pardon me; I was wondering if you could tell me how to reach the upper level of the fortress. I seem to be turned around."

"'Tis back up the stairs you descended, my lady, and to the left. You will see a door with another set of stairs that lead outside."

Lana sighed. It was completely her bad luck that she had chosen the wrong way to go. "Thank you," she said dully.

She was about to leave when a distressed neigh rang sharply through the air. Pausing, Lana rotated around. The noise had startled her and her heart thumped with surprise. The distressed sound filled the air again and Lana saw that a chestnut horse was tugging at its rope. It half reared and then pawed at the ground restlessly. Its metal horseshoes made a scraping sound as they repeatedly struck the stone floor.

Lana squinted her eyes in the dim light and then they widened. Immediately she started toward the animal.

"My lady! You should not be down here," the guard said rushing after her.

"It's ok, I know this horse." She told him as she moved to stand before the frantic animal.

The soldier looked uncertain and eyed the berserk stallion with distrustful eye. That beast had been half mad when they brought him in and he was still a wreck. They had to keep him isolated from the other horses.

"His name is Hasufel." Lana said. "I rode him with…" she paused, choking on a her grief again. "…With a friend into Edoras only a few days ago."

The soldier seemed genuinely surprised that she knew the horse's name. If he was not mistaken, this woman was a stranger to Rohan. Despite her blonde hair, her figure and bone-structure was not like the other women of Rohan. And her manner of speech and accent also alerted him to her foreignness.

"You may have ridden him with a friend, but neither of you own him. His master died during an attack on the orcs that camped near Fangorn Forest."

"He was lent to us," she replied, her voice faraway.

Lana stepped gradually up to the stallion, not sure why she was even bothering with this animal. He seemed fit to be tied. It didn't cross her mind that the horse could take a chunk out of her hand. If anything, seeing Hasufel made her think of riding with Aragorn and all that she had lost. Yet of its own volition her hand lifted into the air.

The stallion snorted and pawed at the ground again, causing Lana to flinch slightly. He blew at her, ears back. Then, since she continued to stand still, he pricked his ears forward. Another huff, taking in her scent, and then he nosed her hand.

Lana watched him touch her hesitantly. He recognized her, but she still did not step too close. He was a very large horse and rather intimidating. Cautiously she petted his muzzle, and when he lowered his head she scratched his ears. Hasufel nickered deep in his throat. It was a grief-stricken sound.

Lana's eyes misted. Hasufel was the horse Aragorn had ridden into battle against those warg riders. Hasufel had returned…Aragorn had not.

Recollecting the soldier only a few feet behind her, she swallowed back her grief and stepped away from the stallion abruptly. Hasufel nickered again, this time in protest, but Lana was unable to bear the sight of him any longer.

The soldier called after her, but she Lana rushed away. Picking up her skirts she flew up the stairs and out of sight as fast as she could.

Hasufel let out a piercing cry at her retreat. The sound was earsplitting as it bounced off the walls. A few other horses answered it and then it was quiet. The disheartened horse fell silent and still, his head hung low.

o0o

Lana ran blindly up the stairs. Tears blurred her vision and she swore viciously wishing she had never seen the stupid horse, and wishing that Aragorn were still alive. She wished a _lot_ of things. Hastily she wiped the loose moisture from her eyes, angry that she had become so emotionally fragile.

She used to be a champion at stuffing her emotions. Now it seemed she had swung the other way, and was weeping at every little thing. Finding herself on a portico she looked around.

Soldiers rushed this way and that, their metal armor clinking as they went. Various women and children were crying, others were packing their belongings and kissing their loved ones. A steady stream of people was snaking towards a large portal that led into what Lana assumed were the caves. The sun was arcing towards the west but still high enough to indicate midafternoon.

Gazing about wildly, Lana stepped back behind a pillar. She had no idea what was happening. She desperately wished to see Gimli or Legolas, even if she was upset with the elf for leaving her.

It took some time before she caught sight of them in the multitude. The two of them were moving with a purpose towards a group of soldiers. Lana quickly descended some steps to their level, excusing herself mindlessly as she bumped into people. She opened her mouth to call out Legolas' name when halted dead in her tracks.

Her eyes blinked several times then actually rubbed them in shock. Surely her eyes were deceiving her. She was seeing things! Mouth hanging open she took a step forward then snapped it shut. Her already bruised heart began to pump painfully in her chest. Yet her eyes were correct.

Only a few feet from Legolas and Gimli stood Aragorn.

The Ranger was alive and speaking to Gamling, Théoden's chief advisor. Greedily, Lana looked the man over taking in every detail as if she had never seen him before. He was filthy. The evidence of his fall was there in the scrapes, bruises, and cuts.

His dark shirt was ripped open on the left and exposed a grisly looking gash that had yet to be properly tended. Fresh blood mingled with dried. The man looked a right wreck but he was alive. And the silver pendant of the Evenstar hung glistening around his neck.

Legolas turned his head and caught sight of Lana before the others did. He had not heard her approach with so many people coming and going around them. She stood only a few yards away and the look of disbelief etched in her features made Legolas wonder if that was how he had appeared when he had first seen Aragorn back from the dead.

He smiled in recognition of her. Legolas let a Rohan mother and her children file past him and then left Gimli's side to make his way over to Lana. She took some steps towards him, but her eyes remained fixed on the Ranger.

"Aragorn…" he heard her whisper.

She appeared completely stunned. Legolas looked her over critically. He could tell that despite her sleep, she had not rested well. He reached out and slid a hand over one of hers.

Her shock gave way to one of confusion. She turned to Legolas. "But how? You said he fell from a cliff..."

"Aye, he did." Legolas nodded. "'Tis a gift from the Valar that he has retuned to us. I do not question it."

"He rode in on Brego, the late prince's horse." Gimli piped in, stepping up beside them. He leaned against his ax his eyes alight with joy. "He has yet to tell us the tale—and I for one wish to know how he did it!"

Lana nodded numbly. Then unable to contain her sudden joy and relief, she bounced a little and squeezed Legolas' hand.

"This is a miracle!"

The sound of Lana's happy voice caused Aragorn to turn and notice her. He excused himself from Gamling, who nodded and took his leave. When the king's advisor was gone, Aragorn advanced towards them. He walked slowly, hunched over slightly as he moved. But he was alive.

Lana let go of Legolas' hand and met the Ranger halfway. "You're alive!" She said her voice cracking.

His gray eyes met her blue ones; a dim smile touched his lips. Without warning, Lana threw her arms around him. She was careful to not knock him over or hurt him further, however.

"Thank God!" Emotion poured from her soul into the words. She shocked the man and before he could even think to embrace her back, she pulled away and gripped the front of his tunic. "Don't you _ever_ do that to me again—do you hear me, Aragorn?" She said sternly, causing Legolas and Gimli to chuckle.

She hugged him tightly once more, and this time he hugged her back: amusement and some small relief touching his harried soul. For a moment he allowed himself to feel her sisterly love and he returned it affectionately. But there was no time to spare.

Gently he pulled away. Lana looked at him in slight confusion. When she saw his grim expression she tilted her head in question. But he said nothing. Lana looked to Gimli and Legolas for answers. Their faces mirrored the Ranger's.

"What is it?" She asked apprehensively. "What is wrong?"

Aragorn shared a look with the elf and dwarf before returning his gaze to the woman before him. "There is no easy way to say this, so I will be blunt. Ten thousand orcs march from Isengard toward Helm's Deep as we speak." He told her grimly. "They will be here by nightfall."

Lana started at him in disbelief. "Ten thousand?" She said flatly. "You have to be joking."

"The king has ordered all the women and children, and those too old or injured to fight into the caves of the mountain." Aragorn continued.

"Aragorn—are you serious? _Ten thousand?_ Do we even have enough soldiers to fend off that many?" She turned and looked over the fortress, shaking her head. "We can't have more than fifteen hundred people here!"

"Most likely less than that. And most of that count are women and children. We are lucky if we have three hundred who can fight."

Aragorn watched as the level of Lana's fear rose. It was the same terror felt by all. It lingered in the air like a thick miasma engulfing all in its path.

"We are all needed to help the people of Rohan prepare as best as we can," Aragorn said. "Right now our priority is to get the women and children into the caves."

Lana swallowed. She felt Legolas step up behind her and take her hand again. He squeezed it reassuringly. Drawing on that simple strength, knowing that they were now all together again, Lana nodded.

"Yes. Of course." She paused, her mind automatically shifting into an analytical mode.

She surveyed the battlements, mentally noting the fortifications. While not an expert in medieval warfare, Lana had witnessed enough mêlées to know what to look for. Perhaps they could hold out as long as they kept the Isengard army at bay. Helm's Deep was made of thick stone and Lana doubted that the enemy had any weapons more advanced than those owned by the Rohan people.

Nodding she looked back to Aragorn. "Once we evacuate everyone from the premise, what then?"

"Legolas, Gimli, and I will prepare for battle," Aragorn replied simply.

Lana's mind was in overdrive. A thousand thoughts clicked through her mind but she felt a pervasive dread coil in her stomach. Part of her brain did not know how to react to this situation. It sent out questions underneath the pragmatic mien that occupied the forefront of her thoughts.

Her fingers drummed on her sword hilt. She knew this battle would be bloody and costly. All battles were, but she knew that this one would be more barbaric than the one's she had witnessed at home.

Bullets killed cleanly—efficiently. But swords and arrows were messy. Still the walls were high and it was unlikely they would be breached. A new thought entered her mind. They could be starved out.

_Ten thousand._ No. They would not have to wait that long. There was enough coming to overwhelm their small force. She was certain that the oncoming army would have some sort of siege weapons. Her face became grim. It looked like they would need another miracle in order to last the night.

"And what about me?" She asked at last.

"For now your help would be valuable in carrying supplies into the caves and helping as many women and children as you can," Aragorn informed her.

Swallowing again Lana made a decision. Straightening her spine, she said, "And then I'll prepare to fight with you."

"Nay! You will go into the caves with the women and be safe!" Legolas burst out, horrified by her suggestion. He squeezed her hand tightly, and then released it in fear that he might hurt her.

"No one will be safe with that many orcs coming," Lana argued logically, her hands punctuating her words. "And we are severely lacking in soldiers." She shook her head, inhaling deeply. "I could fight."

Her words were firm, possessing a strength that no one knew she had.

"Perhaps not hand-to-hand," she quickly amended at their bewildered expressions. "But I _could_ fire arrows from the wall. I'd hit something eventually," she attempted lightly.

"And be killed in the crossfire?" Legolas exclaimed with drawn brows. He did not find anything amusing about her words. "Absolutely not. You will go to the caves and remain there." He ordered firmly, his tone ringing with royal authority.

Lana shot him an exasperated glare before beseeching to Aragorn. "You're allowing boys to fight," she protested, pointing to the soldiers who were taking the youths away from their crying mothers. "Boys who can't be more than twelve years old! They _play_ soldier with wooden toys and probably never held a real sword in their lives."

She looked deeply in each of her companions' eyes. "I _know_ that I can fight better than them. And I know I haven't proven myself a good fighter yet, but now is not the time to be picky. Besides, everyone deserves a second chance."

Legolas looked imploringly at Aragorn. A desperation he had never known welled up inside of him. The elf could not believe what he was hearing!

"It is beyond our control. The king has ordered all the women and children into the caves." Aragorn told her.

Lana took a step closer to him, her eyes becoming hard as stone.

"You're a king, too," she reminded him in a low voice. "Or you will be. You'll be the King of Gondor one day. _You_ can allow me to fight."

Surprise filled Aragorn at her knowledge of his heritage. He frowned slightly but then sighed. Lana stood obdurately before him. He knew her stubborn temper too well by now.

"I may be a king one day, but that is not set in stone. And I may be a lord, but it is not my place to make demands of King Théoden. I made enough this afternoon, and they fell upon deaf ears." The Ranger exhaled feeling frustration well up in him again. "He made these orders for the safety of his people. Do not be unreasonable."

"I am not being 'unreasonable!'" Lana shot back vehemently. "I'm being _sensible!_ Besides I'm not 'one of his people'," she said mimicking his tone belligerently. "And if I have to die, I rather die fighting next to those I love than cowering in some cave!" She said with enough force to startle her friends.

Her eyes became glassy with emotion, but no tears fell. She was breathing heavily, and she looked very much like a woman of power. "I have lost so much already. My family, my friends, and everything dear and familiar to me—my _entire world!"_ She finished in a harsh whisper.

Taking a deep breath, she forced some calmness into her tone. "I'd rather fight and die with you then be left alone regretting that I did nothing to help."

Legolas felt his heart constrict at her words, but Aragorn felt admiration. Was this the same woman they had found in Moria? Lana stood erect before him, her eyes glowing with determination.

"You think we will all perish?" Gimli asked, bushy brows rising.

Lana sent him a dry look. "Don't pretend it hasn't crossed your minds. Given the odds, it is a likely outcome. You all could die." Her voice cracked and she closed her eyes, taking a moment to collect herself.

Then she peered at the commotion around her. Families were being broken: tears and resignation settled on the faces of women, mothers, fathers, grandparents…sisters and brothers…lovers. War was such an ugly thing.

"Perhaps I will die tonight…with the women and children in those caves. But that is not how I wish to leave this world."

Aragorn was silent as he observed her.

"You have changed much since we first met, Lana Rey," he said at last. "In the beginning, you would have run and now you wish to stay and fight," he said allowing his admiration and pride to color his voice.

She smiled faintly, acknowledging this brief and singular praise. "Time and these lands have changed me," she said softly. "I think I have changed for the better…or I hope I have."

She returned her eyes to the heart-wrenching scene before her. Then she looked back at Aragorn, meeting his eyes with brutal honesty.

"I'm still afraid. I won't lie about that. I can hardly express just how deathly afraid I am of what's coming." She swallowed hard. "But I'm more afraid of being alone because I was too much of a coward to fight beside the ones I've come to love as my family."

Legolas said nothing as she finished her speech. He stared intently at her, feeling many emotions at once: pride, esteem, but also fear.

Aragorn sighed. "Your words and the truth behind them are commendable, but I cannot contradict an order from the king."

"Even if he could, we would not allow you to fight. It is far too dangerous." Legolas said decisively.

He crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at her stoically. But his anxiety and worry lingered in the air around him like a thick fog.

Lana stiffened ready to do battle with words again. "But it's not too dangerous for little boys or for you?"

"Enough!" Aragorn snapped and Lana winced. "The decision has been made. You _will_ go to the caves."

Lana closed her eyes in defeat. She turned her face away, gritting her teeth as her heart railed against this unfair plight. Did they not understand that if they died she would have no one?

"You say the enemy will not arrive until nightfall?" Gimli queried quietly.

Aragorn nodded and crossed his arms over his chest, wondering what the dwarf was up to. Lana opened her eyes and looked at Gimli.

"Surely the lassie can stay with us until the last moment before she goes to the caves."

Legolas shot him an incredulous glance at the suggestion.

"Perhaps she will rest more easily if she has done all that she could within the boundaries of the orders given," he told them. "There will be weapons that need to be supplied to those who can fight; there are injured that need attending." Gimli nodded at Aragorn's wounds.

"I am certain that there is more she can help us with." Gimli looked up at Lana smiling fondly through his beard. "I for one would enjoy hearing tales of her strange world. That would ease my mind." The dwarf then looked at Aragorn. "If she stays and helps just a while longer at least she would have done her part."

Aragorn rubbed a hand over his face thinking. He nodded slowly after a few moments.

"Gimli makes a fair point." He looked at Lana who was watching him eagerly now. "While we cannot allow you to fight, there will be no doubt that you did all you could until the last moment. Will you help us prepare and ease our minds in the time before battle?"

Lana nodded vehemently. "Yes."

If they would not allow her fight then, at least, she could do what she was able with the parameters given. It would keep her mind off of losing her friends…and keep her from feeling ashamed. And useless.

The Ranger put a hand on Lana's shoulder and squeezed gently. He gazed at each of his companions.

"Let us go and help the people of Rohan."

They moved together determined to do what they could.

o0o

Time passed by far too quickly. The sun seemed to be moving exceedingly fast through the sky, Lana thought—and still not everyone was in the caves. Torches lined the high walls, and the stream of people seemed unending.

After entering the caves for the umpteenth time to unload supplies, Lana followed after Legolas and Aragorn. Their pace was quick, but she kept up, hardly feeling fatigued. There was too much adrenaline in her veins to allow her to feel tired.

"We will place reserves along the wall," Aragorn said, pointing to the walls on their left. Both the elf and woman glanced up. "They can support the archers from above the gate." He finished.

He moved brusquely upstream of the current of people. Gimli was not with them. He had remained in the caverns to check the doors and passageways. It was obvious to his companions that despite checking the defenses, the dwarf was lost in the beauty of the caves. They let him stay as stone calmed a dwarf like a forest calmed an elf. Unfortunately for Legolas, there was no forest near.

Aragorn quickened his pace urgently. There was simply not enough time! Legolas even with his long stride had to jog to catch up. Lana fell behind for a moment as she became lost in the torrent.

"Aragorn, you _must_ rest," the elf told him firmly. "You are no use to us half alive."

The Ranger had not stopped since he had returned, immersing himself in planning defenses, checking walls, helping people into the caves and carrying supplies.

"He's right, Aragorn. You haven't stopped moving since I first saw you. You need to rest and you need to get that arm tended." Lana added, walking quickly to keep up.

Aragorn frowned at their persistence. Before he could speak a voice called out over the din.

"My lord! Aragorn!"

The trio turned towards the familiar voice. Moments later Éowyn rushed towards them, her long golden hair trailing behind her like a banner as she threaded through her people.

Legolas halted sensing that the Shield Maiden wished to speak with Aragorn alone. Lana stopped beside him, and gave him a questioning look. Legolas merely shook his head and stepped out of the way of the crowd.

Lana couldn't hear any of Éowyn's conversation with Aragorn over the babel of the crowd. All she knew was that the woman spoke in earnest tones and appeared upset. Lana moved abruptly aside as an elderly woman pushed past her. While she was happy to help these people, she was reaching her limit with crowds.

"I was worried when I woke up before and you weren't with me," she told Legolas in undertone.

While they had been together for the past few hours, they had not had much of a chance to talk. Legolas frowned at her quiet tone.

"Forgive me. I needed to clear my thoughts. I intended to return to you before you awakened. Then Aragorn appeared…"

Lana nodded, her lips thinning. "So you forgot about me." She said under her breath, not intending to actually say that aloud.

Legolas gripped her arm earnestly and turned her to face him. "I could never forget you." He looked deeply into her blue eyes and squeezed her arm softly. _"Never."_

Lana blinked at his tone and the strength with which he gripped her arm. They held each other's gaze, oblivious to the multitude around them. A voice shouted loudly and they each blinked and looked away from each other.

"You do not command the others to stay!"

Both Legolas and Lana looked toward Aragorn and Éowyn. Reluctantly Legolas released Lana's arm and attempted to act disinterested in the conversation at hand. Lana was far too curious to look away and she watched as Aragorn turned to face the Lady of Rohan.

However, Éowyn was not looking at the Ranger but staring past him—but not to Legolas….but to _her_. Lana frowned and wondered what was going on to make Éowyn give her such a frosty look. Lana diverted her gaze but strained her ears to hear what was said.

"They fight beside you because they would not be parted from you!" Éowyn said passionately. "Because they love you!"

Lana looked up at those words recognizing them for what they were. Her heart suddenly went out to the other woman. Lana caught the Ranger's look as he shifted his gaze downward before meeting the lady's eyes again.

The Shield Maiden looked suddenly embarrassed that she let her feelings slip out so blatantly. "I'm...sorry," the woman breathed.

Not giving Aragorn a chance to respond, she gathered her skirts and pushed past him hastily. Legolas had to turn aside quick to avoid colliding with her. Éowyn didn't even spare Lana a second glance as she pushed past. It seemed a cool wind of rejection followed the proud woman. Lana frowned wondering at the lady's behavior.

o0o

When the sunlight faded from the sky, Lana at last was able to tend Aragorn's injuries. She had been reduced to nagging him. He finally relented though he did not sit still. While she worked, he insisted on speaking with several captains and their lieutenants.

As the soldiers finished and took their leave, and Lana seized the moment to pester Aragorn a bit more.

"You can't sit still even for a moment, can you?" She admonished as she wrapped a clean cloth around the wound firmly and tied it securely.

Aragorn did not wince as she tied it tightly though it did hurt. The pain was a reminder that he was still alive.

"There is no time for rest. You know this." He told her resolutely.

She sighed and shook her head, her lips quirking. "Men. You all think you're indestructible." She paused and caught his eyes. "I meant what I said earlier."

He lifted a questioning brow.

"Don't do _that_ to me again. I couldn't bear to lose you a second time. None of us can." She commented softly. "So you had better survive. Or I will find your miserable excuse for a body, raise you from the dead, and then kill you myself."

Aragorn did not reply, but smiled faintly at her silliness. She finished her task and washed her hands. As she did so she ordered all three of her companions to take at least five minutes and eat something. It was going to be a long night.

While they ate she said, "Did I ever tell you about the Spartans and the Battle of Thermopylae?" She asked, knowing very well that she hadn't. She didn't want them to dwell on their pending doom. So a story of unbelievable odds and courage was just the thing.

"The Spartans were a fearsome people from a land called Sparta, in country called Greece. They lived some three thousands years before my time, but the tales of their deeds still echo through the ages."

She told them with embellished words and dramatic cadence how the Spartans were known for their skill in war, and that they would rather kill themselves than suffer defeat in battle.

"Mothers told their sons before they went off to fight that they had better return with their shields in hand; or be on them."

Her companions listened with rapt interest about this barbaric sounding people. Lana's words wove a rich tapestry of images, sounds, and colors.

"There was a time when Greece was threatened to be overrun by their most hated enemy—the Persians. Xerxes, the emperor of Persia sailed over the Aegean Sea with a million men to take the land.

"Where they landed there was only one passage to get into the interior of Greece. Most of the country is covered in mountains and very difficult to travel through. And the only way through the mountains was by a single pass called Thermopylae."

"So Xerxes came, bringing his million men and they were stopped by three hundred Spartans. They blocked the gap in the mountains. For three days they fought so viciously that it is said that the Persians lost all taste for battle."

She met their eyes then, an almost fey light glowing in her gaze.

"Their names went down in the annals of history, their glory remembered for all time—even into my age when there isn't a trace of their civilization left."

After a pause Gimli pulled his pipe from his lips. "And what happened to them in the end?"

She gave them a dark humored smile. "Dead to the last man."

The grim banter in her eyes made them chuckle and in a way renewed their own determination. Aragorn felt a change in the wind and looked out at the sky.

"Clouds are gathering," he noted aloud.

Lana came to stand by his side and watched the oncoming storm, her smile gone. He realized then how strong Lana looked at this moment. She wore one of Éowyn's dresses, though the beautiful faded blue fabric was smeared with his blood and dirt. Her hair was half pulled up, but much of it was falling from its bonds. It was picked up by the wind and danced around her face and shoulders.

At this moment he would not have believed that she had come from another realm and another time that did not know war like his did. He would have believed that she belonged here in his world. She had come far in the months she had traveled with them, not only in leagues, but also in character. While she was no warrior, she was a true and loyal friend with a kind heart.

She turned as if sensing his gaze upon her. Aragorn raised one of his callused hands to her face, and cupped her cheek in his palm. He brushed his thumb over her soft skin and smiled.

She smiled back.

She looked _beautiful_. Her honey golden hair drifted around her and her effervescent blue eyes shone with that keen light that bespoke of intelligence and great knowledge.

His smile slowly faded as he looked into her face, and then his hand fell to his side. Suddenly he wished he had left her in Lothlórien. He had surely led her to her death; and if not hers then she would be witness to his, Gimli's, and Legolas'. She would be left alone then, and he did not know how she would handle their losses on top of all that had been stripped from her.

She had witnessed the terror of Gandalf's fall, and then Boromir's death followed by the harrowing experience of fearing Merry and Pippin's lives.

Legolas had confided him about her past experiences in war, how she had been captured, taken prisoner, and tortured for six months. He knew that she had been humiliated and defiled, but that she survived. Legolas had also told him how upon her return, the man who had courted her had left her, only for her to discover that he had also betrayed her.

And she had just reminded them all that she had lost her family and her entire world.

Aragorn's brows furrowed and he hooded his eyes. What would it be like for him to survive this battle and return to Lana only to tell her that Legolas had died? She was extremely close to the Mirkwood Prince, just as the elf was close to her. Or what if it was Gimli who was slain? Lana loved the dwarf as well. She viewed them all as family.

They had each known the risks when they had joined the Fellowship and set out from Rivendell, while Lana, joining them reluctantly from Moria, did not.

Aragorn exhaled loudly at the thought that he had done the wrong thing in bringing her with them. But then he recalled Gandalf's words: _With proper training she will be a fine warrior. Before the end she will have found her place amongst you and will prove her worth._

And the Lady of Light had given her a dagger. Surely, he had not misinterpreted the signs?

"Aragorn?"

He blinked, forgetting himself. Lana peered at him strangely, her head tilted to one side as she regarded him.

"Legolas, Gimli, and I must go to the armory. Stay here and enjoy the wind on your face and the fresh air while you can."

She opened her mouth to say something, but he was already walking away with the elf and dwarf in tow. Lana watched them disappear into the darkness, and then sat slowly upon the steps. The stone was still warm from baking in the sun all day, but the air around her was cold. Shivering not just from the wind she pulled her Lothlórien cloak around her.

Soldiers were already lining the outer halls, dressed in full armor. Torches were being lit. Shouted commands echoed in the now mostly empty keep. There were hardly any women about and there were no more children running around. The fields and hills were deathly quiet, but they wouldn't be for long.

_This is real,_ she thought. There would be a battle and many would die. Her mind played over memories from various medieval period films she had seen. She imaged rows of soldiers facing each other. It was an old fashioned way of fighting. She was used to guerrilla warfare and sniper tactics, and really big guns. This…this was standing before your enemy and facing them head on. And it frightened her.

She looked up into the moonless and starless sky. The celestial lights were hidden behind a dark cloud.

"Please God," Lana whispered. "I know I don't pray as often as I should, or give you even simple thanks, but please don't let them die. Please…not only for me, but for the sake of this world and the people who love them."

Her eyes watered as she thought about the Fellowship. She missed Merry and Pippin and wondered if they were truly safe. She wondered how far Sam and Frodo had traveled and if they were even alive. She prayed that Boromir had peace in death and that whatever afterlife he had, he found happiness in it.

Bowing her head, she cradled it in her hands, her fingers digging into her skull. Her lips moved in silent pleas to God and to whatever deities of this world that might listen to her.

That is how Legolas and Gimli found her nearly an hour later.

Legolas was troubled due to an argument that he had had with Aragorn in the armory and had sought Lana in the hope that she might ease is worried soul. But when he saw her sitting on the stairs holding her head in her hands, the elf let his thoughts of the dispute rest.

He announced his presence by sitting beside her and clearing his throat. Lana slowly lifted her head, her eyes glistening.

Legolas gently pushed back the tendrils of hair that drifted around her face. At the gentle caress a tear fell from her eyes. Legolas brushed his thumb over her brow and then along the side of her nose. His thumb moved downward as he gently wiped the salty liquid from her cheek.

Then he put his other arm around her and pulled her toward him. She came unresisting, and laid her head firmly against his chest.

Gimli sat on Lana's other side with a hearty sigh. She turned her face to him and held out her hand. The dwarf put his gloved fingers in hers, and she squeezed his hand in solidarity, giving him a faint smile.

Together they sat in the quickening gloom.

In the end, Legolas did not tell Lana of his disagreement with Aragorn. Instead, he held onto this brief moment. Her presence soothed him and he knew that his did the same for her. It was with much reluctance that he left her in Gimli's care and sought out Aragorn as the sky turned black.

o0o

Lana followed Gimli into the armory to help him prepare for battle. He had stripped to the grey sark he wore beneath his usual leather armor. Together, they sifted through the remaining shirts of chainmail and discovered that all of them were large. Very large.

Lana held one up to herself seeing that it fell past her knees.

"It won't fit, Gimli," she said glancing at him. "These were made for tall men, not short dwarves. Why not just wear what you have?"

"It will fit," Gimli grunted taking the heavy mail. "I shall show you!"

Lana smirked as Gimli pulled the chainmail over his head. "See lass? Nothing to it," he murmured from somewhere inside the metal shirt.

It bunched and became stuck over his chest. Lana smothered a laugh but Gimli still somehow managed to hear her snicker. It caused the dwarf to become further annoyed.

"I think I heard something," he told her, changing the subject as he wrangled with the gathered metal rings. He walked awkwardly away still grumbling as Lana followed behind. Her lips curled into a light smile as she saw Aragorn and Legolas.

The Ranger wore his usual clothing but with chainmail beneath it. The silver metal could be seen at the neck of his shirt and down his sleeves. Legolas wore leather armor over his shoulders and the tops of his arms.

Lana frowned when she saw no helmets or true armor on either of their bodies. Did they think to be heroic? Her eyes gazed over the remaining accouterments trying to see if there was anything more substantial she could array her warriors in. Her lips thinned as she saw there was truly not much to choose from.

Aragorn turned as they approached. Both he and Legolas shared an amused glance as the dwarf struggled with the chainmail caught at his chest.

"By the time I get this atrocity—" Gimli gave the chainmail a firm tug and it finally fell to the ground, covering his entire body and then some. "It is a little tight across the chest." He admitted stiffly.

The man and elf looked at the dwarf with barely concealed amusement. Lana laughed outright.

"I told you it was too long!"

Gimli grunted and shot her an unamused look. Aragorn opened his mouth to say something when a loud horn blew. Legolas' eyes widened.

"That is no orc horn!" He exclaimed and then bounded up the stairs like a deer.

"What's going on?" Lana asked, bewildered.

"Come!" Aragorn said with sudden excitement.

Shaking her head at those two, Lana quickly helped Gimli out of the ill-fitting chainmail and back into his own armor. It would have to do, but at least it covered him more than what the elf and Ranger wore. Together they ran up the stairs after their taller companions.

Lana couldn't believe her eyes as they came to the courtyard. Gimli's widened too as he saw the elegant but deadly figures dressed in long blue cloaks and fully outfitted with sharp swords and bows. Their shimmering banners proclaimed who they were, but anyone with eyes could see they were not of Rohan.

"Elves…" Lana murmured in disbelief.

Gimli could only nod. There were many elves. For a moment he wondered who led them and he fell headfirst into the irrational hope that the Lady of Light was here. But of course she wasn't. It was her most trusted warrior, the March Warden of the Golden Wood, standing beside Théoden King, Legolas, and Aragorn.

It took Lana several minutes to recognize him amid the splendor. Her lips suddenly curled into a delighted smile. He was another sight that was difficult to believe, but warmed her heart nonetheless.

Haldir caught her movement and turned to her with a lion-like grace. He smiled and Lana quickly moved forward to greet him. Her lips parted into a happy grin. Haldir's presence and that of the elves he had brought tipped the odds—and she hoped they would be enough.

Standing before the silvery elf, Lana surprised him by greeting him in the customary elvish salutation.

_"Mae govannen,"_

Haldir's lips curved, and he returned the greeting.

_"Glassen gen sened,"_ she said. _"Anann gen ú-gennin." It is my joy to see you. I have not seen you in a long time._

Haldir grinned in delight. "You have learned Sindarin?" He asked her in the Common Tongue.

She nodded. "Some. I have a good teacher."

Haldir laughed. "I have no doubt that it is Legolas who teaches you, for you have learned his Mirkwood accent as well."

Legolas grinned heartily. Joy radiated from him. His kinsmen were here to fight along side them. His confidence now soared.

Haldir turned to address Gimli. "Ah, and our loud-breathing friend. How are you Master Dwarf?" Haldir asked mischievously.

Gimli grunted. "I will not lie. I am better now that the pointy-ears have arrived."

Sadly, the reunion did not last long. Théoden was impatient to incorporate the elves into his defenses. The enemy was on the move and they did not have a minute to spare.

Aragorn informed Lana that it was time for her to go to the caves. He could see her reluctance to leave, especially since Haldir had only just arrived. Her fingers inherently wrapped around the sword at her hip. But he leveled a stern look and she relaxed her grip.

Then Lana hugged Haldir, which surprised the March Warden, and told him to be careful. He smiled, nodded, and parted with the words,_ "Na-den pedim ad, no i Valar na le." Until we speak again, may the Valar be with you._

_"A le,"_ she replied. _And you._

She planted a kiss on Gimli's cheek and the dwarf blushed at least six different shades of red even as she hugged him tightly. Still blushing profusely, he took her hand in both of his.

"We will see each other soon, lass."

She nodded, her eyes starting to sting. Her parting from Aragorn pulled at her heart. He gave her a swift embrace, holding her against him. She hugged him back tightly.

"You have made us proud this day. Do not forget that," he whispered in her ear.

He withdrew quickly and walked away to follow Haldir who was already moving his troops into position along the wall and behind it. Lana thought that she had glimpsed tears in the Ranger's eyes.

Lana expected her parting from Legolas would be swift as well, but it was not so. The elf wished to walk her to the caves to be certain that she made it safely. He rested a hand on the small of her back protectively for the entire way.

Once within the hall that led down to the doors of the caves, they halted keeping several yards back. The doors were shut and barred at the present with a single nervous looking guard standing outside.

The mortal woman and elf stood in the shadows, away from the pervasive light of the torches and out of sight of the lone guard so that their parting would be in private. Lana watched Legolas for a moment in the darkness. He looked everywhere it seemed but her eyes.

"I should say something, but I know not what to say…" he murmured softly.

His voice was full of pent up emotion. Lana looked down, her heart swelling with sentiments too strong to name properly. Looking up she saw that he now gazed into her eyes. The fire light from the distant torches danced and swirled in his luminous blue eyes. She swallowed hard at the intensity of his regard.

She dropped her gaze again and lifted her hand. With her fingers she brushed the light leather armor that protected his shoulders and little else. She traced the strap that held it in place, her fingers tracing along the foreign embossments. She prayed that the armor and his skills would be enough to keep him alive.

But this was war; and the unexpected could always happen.

Her throat seemed to close even as her chest tightened, and salty tears were in her eyes when there had been none moments before. Lifting her hand she cupped his cheek, her fingers gliding over the smooth, pale skin of his face.

"Then…don't say anything…except…" her voice trailed off as her eyes wandered over his features and then down to his throat and finally to rest on her fingers which now toyed with the silky strands of his pale hair.

"Except what?" He prompted softly.

He tilted his head and watched her. She continued to stroke his hair and would not meet his eyes.

"Lana?" Legolas asked with soft urgency. His heart began to pound within his chest.

Her eyes closed at the sound of her real name falling from his lips. She waited a few breaths more and then gazed up into his eyes. Her own were filled with deep emotion.

"Except that you'll come back…" she stepped closer placing both of her hands on his chest. "Come back to me." She whispered and laid her head on his chest above his beating heart.

Legolas exhaled sharply at her request. Automatically his arms went around her. He embraced her tightly and buried his face into her hair. The exotic scent of unknown spices, flowers, and the unique smell that was hers filled his senses.

How many times had he parted with friends and family when he had gone off to keep giant spiders at bay? How many times had he departed with the scouting parties to kill the orcs and goblins that threatened his home?

Yet this parting was vastly different than all the others, though he could not fathom what the difference was.

"Promise me," she whispered earnestly, her voice full of tears.

Her hands contracted in his tunic. Legolas held her tighter, afraid that if he did not she would disappear from his grasp. He heard a Rohirric horn sound outside. Lana stiffened in his arms at its call.

The enemy had been spotted.

It was with great reluctance that he pulled back and gazed into Lana's tearful eyes. He stroked her hair, his fingers disappearing into its heavy golden depths. He tucked it behind her ear, tracing the rim down to her face, and then followed the line of her jaw. His breath caught in his throat when she closed her eyes in response to his caress.

"I cannot promise that," he whispered regretfully.

She opened her eyes and a tear fell.

"My life is in Eru's mighty hands. But I can promise that I will fight harder than I have ever fought before."

She nodded and smoothed back a few blonde hairs that had fallen out forward. "Then promise me that you'll try to look after the others and that they'll look after you."

"It shall be done."

The horn sounded again causing them both to jolt. Lana grimaced, closing her eyes against the sound—against the pending departure. The horn had been a last call to anyone not at their posts.

Lana felt Legolas' grip upon her loosen and her tears fell at will. He was leaving her and he might never come back.

"Think not of such things," he said as if reading her thoughts. He indulged one last time in his favorite habit of touching her hair.

Realizing that it was possible that he might never see her again made his heartache bitterly within his chest. His breath caught in his throat once more. The sudden desire to touch his lips to hers stirred powerfully within him; but he did not act on this yearning. There was a war to fight and he needed his mind to be clear. He would ponder these desires within him later when they were both safe.

"Go to the caves and help those you can." His hands fell to hers, squeezing them ardently. "May the Valar be with us both this night."

Without warning Lana leaned forward on tiptoe. Her lips touched his face warmly. Her mouth was near his own but touching only just above the corner of his lips. The soft touch of her mouth sent a wild fire sparking through his veins as her lips lingered upon his skin. It was white hot, threatening to devour him as it had when he had comforted her earlier this day when it had been his lips upon her skin.

After a moment he exhaled and opened his eyes. Then he stepped back. Lana looked up at him in confusion. He took her face in his hands and it required all is will power to not kiss her full lips in return. Instead, he repaid her kiss with one on her forehead, and then he urged her on.

"Go, _mellon nín._ Go in the hope that we shall see each other soon."

His eyes were glazed with an unknown sentiment as he spoke and Lana found it suddenly impossible to look into them. With much reluctance she turned slowly away and started for the doors of the cave.

Upon seeing her, the surprised guard had the doors opened and swiftly urged her inside. A rebuke was in his voice.

Lana stepped in but did not leave the doorway. Legolas gazed upon her form until the door closed and was barred, shutting her away from his sight.

The elf inhaled deeply and then exhaled fully. He gripped his bow tightly and gazed towards the stairs that led to the outside, his thoughts turning to Gimli. The silly dwarf believed he could kill more orcs than him. Legolas grinned suddenly and rushed up the steps, bounding with the grace of a stag.

He intended to prove Gimli wrong.

* * *

_Ready for the battle? __Here we go! _

_As always, thanks for reading. _


	31. An Unlikely Warrior

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story. **

I make no claim to Tolkien's works_._ I also give credit to Cormak3032.

We are getting closer and closer to where Cormak left us all dying for more in "Mysterious Fate." The good news is that I already have many chapters written after that.

Now for the battle...

* * *

**Chapter 30: An Unlikely Warrior**

The Glittering Caves were aptly named. The colorful stone contained veins of crystals and hidden gems that extended in all directions. When touched by the torchlight the caves positively exploded with dazzling spectacle. It was like a dream world. Lana had not paid much attention to the caves on her earlier visits to help unload supplies. She had been far too occupied in her tasks. Now as she had little to do but wait the sight of the caves intrigued her.

As she wandered about she better understood why Gimli was so enthralled with the place. If she knew anything about dwarves it was that they appreciated good stone as much as an elf appreciated a fine tree. This place must have felt like a home away from home for him.

Thoughts of Gimli made her somber, and her mood turned dark. Already she was desperate to see her friends, and it had only been thirty minutes since Legolas had brought her to the caves. Blinking away the pervasive mist that gathered in her eyes she tried to focus on the natural beauty around her.

But her heart was betraying her with every step she took. She had been through battles before, but never like this. In the past she didn't have to wait for word of her loved ones. No, she had been with the soldiers; rushed into battle with them; secured a place from where she could observe and report. Waiting in the dark felt wrong. But she knew her place was here.

_Isn't it?_

She wasn't a soldier. She reminded herself again and again. Yet she _had_ training. That was more than many of the boys and farmers out on the wall could say. She paced aimlessly while her mind tossed to and fro. She _had_ to stay in the caves. It was the king's command. She couldn't very well disobey the king, now could she?

Frustrated tears made her vision watery and she stopped walking. Squeezing her eyes shut she forced her brain to stop. But as always it ran on without regard to her desires. And it betrayed her yet again.

She saw in her mind Legolas' shadowed form from the cave entrance. His blue eyes had been incandescent despite the gloom. Her heart contracted at the thought of never seeing him again. He had told her not to think such thoughts, but how could she not? There were _ten thousand_ heavily armed uruk-hai out there with only several hundred men and elves to stand in their way.

Her sigh was heavy and it seemed to drag her down. There was nothing she could do to help them now. Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, and even Haldir were beyond her aid. And this ate at her like the sea devouring sand.

"Lana?"

Jerking around she saw Éowyn standing behind her. The Shield Maiden had pulled her long hair back out of her face. Dirt marred her normally clean features. With lifted brows she peered at Lana wordlessly.

"You look surprised to see me," Lana noted dryly.

"I—I am. I thought that you were with Lord Aragorn and the others," she replied, recovering from her shock.

Lana looked down and shook her head. "Aragorn wouldn't let me fight, and neither would Legolas."

Éowyn studied her speculatively. "I have been here for hours and I haven't see you. I assumed they let you fight." There was something invidious in the lady's tone that rubbed Lana the wrong way.

"I just arrived a short while ago." She replied curbing her temper. The other woman's accusatory gaze and probing questions galled her. But then Lana admitted that it was not actually Éowyn who she was upset with. "The enemy had been spotted so it was time for me to come here." She concluded stiffly. Lana tried to sound unaffected but she couldn't.

Éowyn held her gaze solemnly. "You still wish to fight with them. I can see it in your eyes."

She met Éowyn's piercing look. The Lady of Rohan was taken aback by the hard determination that gleamed beneath the dread and sorrow. Éowyn might be ice, but this woman standing before her was fire. And the lady then knew that Lana's passions could consume anything before her should she let them loose.

Lana held her gaze unflinchingly. "So do you." After a moment, she released a sigh, some of the fire in her look fading to a cool ember. "But it's not my place. At least, not today."

She turned back to the stalagmites and stalactites she had been studying. They had been polished to a shiny gleam from the many hundreds of hands that had touched them over the years.

"I almost feel like a different person," she revealed though she knew not why she told Éowyn this.

The lady was certainly not one she would call a close friend—if they were friends at all. She was young, and she took herself very seriously. But Lana was in no position to judge. Life seemed hard enough in this world even without the war.

Continuing, Lana said, "Not very long ago I wouldn't have wanted to fight. I would have probably done the sane thing and ran and hid."

Éowyn regarded her for a moment before replying. "People change."

Lana pursed her lips keeping her focus on the people who sat huddled in the caves with them. "Yes. They do."

In the near distance a rhythmic rumbling sound could be heard. "The uruk-hai are approaching." Éowyn announced softly.

The distant noise had started fifteen minutes ago, but it grew steadily louder. It was raining and thundering beyond the caves, but they could still hear their enemy. They were on the march.

Lana faced the younger woman and put a hand on her shoulder. "We must be hopeful. It's what they would want. We can support them with that."

Éowyn smiled faintly. Her uncle, the king, and many she knew would indeed want her hope.

The rumbling grew louder. Children buried their faces in their mother's shoulders. Babes cried and so did several frightened women. Before long the rumbling became so incessant that it was impossible to block it out. Silently Lana prayed for her friends.

The moment the fighting started it could be heard from the caves. Many women burst into bitter tears for their husbands, sons, fathers, and brothers whom they feared would never return.

Lana sat holding a young boy against her. He couldn't have been more than five years old she thought. His older brother fought in the battle tonight and his mother and father had died years before. Lana had felt her heart go out to the lad and had gone to him. She identified with his lonely terror.

"Would you like to hear a story?" She asked him.

He sniffed and tried to hide his tears. Looking up at her he nodded. Lana gave him a soothing smile. Several other children nearby perked up from their mothers' laps. Gram and Frieda moved close, and even the lovely Léofwyn tuned in an attentive ear. Éowyn perched nearby, pretending to not listen, but she was intrigued and anxious as well.

"Once upon a time, in a land very far from here there lived a young girl," Lana began in a forced light tone.

She told the children story after story, making some up when she ran out of the ones she knew. She kept this up until the wounded started pouring in. Leaving the boy with a mother whose only son was out fighting, Lana went to lend her hands with the injured.

She had some first-aid field training. Every journalist that entered a conflict zone had to know at least the basics of trauma response. At first the wounds were not too graphic. Mostly arrow wounds, but eventually those gave way to missing fingers, cracked bones, and gaping holes.

The healers that were available recognized that Lana had more skill than many of their aides, and had her tend some of the most critically wounded. Part of her wanted to vomit, especially when they brought in a poor man with his bowels hanging out. His screaming was unbearable, as was the knowledge that he would die in excruciating pain. Even if modern medicine were available she doubted he would make it.

Lana's hands shook. She did not have the expertise to heal them. Most bled out under her fingers. Feeling angry she worked harder, barked orders, and shouted for more hot water and bandages. Forcing away her bile she disinfected, stitched wounds, stuffed guts back into abdomens, and set fractures to the best of her limited abilities.

Aides scurried everywhere as healers ordered them tersely. Eventually Éowyn fell under her direction as Lana shouted for even more clean bandages and hot water. Looking back later Lana would never know where the strength came from to do these things, but she did them.

The metallic scent of blood was overwhelming as was the stench of split intestines, sweat, and urine. Once Lana did have to turn aside and throw up. The smells were that overpowering.

Suddenly there were shouts at the door. Lana attempted to drown them out as she finished stitching a nasty shoulder wound. Her fingers were slick with blood, and blood soaked her clothes. She cursed as her wet fingers dropped the needle. The commotion grew and she heard a single voice above the rest.

"It's an elf!"

Lana snapped her head around to stare at the crowd in the doorway. She listened to the panicked chorus of onlookers that a fair-haired elf had been brought in. Her heart began pounding in her ears. She grabbed a woman and ordered her to clean and bandage the stitches she had just finished. Then she leapt to her feet and push through the crowd.

_Please God! Don't let it be Legolas! Please…_

She pushed aside several dumbstruck onlookers who were crowded around the latest arrival. They stared at the golden warrior as if he were some curio at a circus. Hot rage caused Lana to be rougher than she normally would be. She practically shoved the last few gawkers out of her way.

Seeing the elf, her breath left her in a rush.

It was not Legolas.

The blonde haired elven warrior lay on the ground in a growing pool of blood. He was dressed in elaborate metal plated armor, but it had done little to save his life. His right side was completely dark with sticky, hot blood. The mangled armor and flesh had been rent apart by an uruk-hai's primitive blade.

The elf murmured something in Elvish, but Lana couldn't understand what he said. Kneeling down she put her hand on the elf's shoulder and then cupped his face. His long golden hair was richer than Legolas' and his eyes were a vivid hazel instead of blue.

The elf gasped and looked at her in fear and agony. He said something again in that language she didn't know.

_"Pedich Sindarin, maethor?" Do you speak Sindarin, warrior?_

The elf gripped her wrist with unexpected strength. He stared at her wide-eyed. He nodded curtly before swallowing with pain. A tear escaped Lana's eye from witnessing his anguish.

_"Trenaro nin man le ista,"_ she beseeched him softly stroking back his matted hair. _Tell me what you know,_

_"Istach Sindarin?"_ He asked, blood trickling from his lips. _You know Sindarin?_

Lana nodded and turned over her shoulder. "Someone bring me water! Hurry!" She shouted before turning back to the elf. _"Aye, mellyn nín Aragorn a Legolas pedi ha. Trenaro nin man le ista." Yes, my friends Aragorn and Legolas speak it. Tell me what you know._

_"I 'lamhoth…fara mellon hen…Aragorn. Istar e na i…Aran o Gondor."_ He told her. _The host of orcs hunt your friend Aragorn. They know he is to be the King of Gondor._

"What?!" Lana gasped. How did the orcs know such information? At the elf's confused expression she translated. _"Man?"_

_"I 'lamhoth fara…mellon hen….Aragorn. Ú-innar daro…na-den ho…fern,"_ he gasped out. _The host of orcs hunts your friend Aragorn. They will not stop until he is dead._

Lana felt numb. If the uruk-hai knew about Aragorn then…her heart stopped beating.

Behind her the people of Rohan were murmuring between themselves. "What are they saying? She a human and yet she speaks their tongue. Who is this woman?"

Lana ignored them and called again sharply for bandages and the water. The people jumped and scattered to do as she commanded. Lana turned back to the elven warrior. His breathing had become even more labored and Lana could hear liquid in his lungs. She swallowed back her tears.

_"Hannon le an i hiniath,"_ she told the dying elf._ Thank you for the news._

He nodded and then swallowed, which caused him to cough violently. He grit his teeth moaning. Not able to wait any longer for bandages, Lana tore at the hem of her dress and moved to stop the elf's bleeding. But he would not allow it.

He held both her hands softly with one of his. Lana looked into his hazel eyes, hers watering in denial. He was suffering terribly and it tore her apart. She had seen many men die this night, even a twelve-year-old boy; but to see an elf passing away like this was something else entirely.

This elf appeared to be older than Legolas, which meant he could be well over three thousand years old. What incredible things he must have witnessed in his lifetime! And all that extensive knowledge! And now he would perish and all that he knew would be lost to Middle Earth.

Never again would he step foot in his homeland. Never would he feel the sun on his face or hear the laughing sound of the wind in the trees. He would die here in this horrible place.

Crying heedlessly Lana asked, _"Man i eneth lîn, maethor?"_ Her voice was shaking. _What is your name, warrior?_

_"Thunin…"_

_"Ah ias care le tolo o, Thunin?" And where do you come from, Thunin?_

_"Lothlórien…hiril nín. Gerich…cennich ha?"_ He asked hopefully. _Lothlórien...my lady. __Have you seen it?_

Lana nodded and gripped his hand tighter. She knew he was beyond saving; he was bleeding out before her very eyes. He knew this too. Even before he entered the caves he knew.

It would not be long now.

_"Gerin cennin ha. Tond bain mellyrn. I laiss sui celebren ned anor."_ She told him with a tremulous smile. _I have seen it. Tall beautiful mallorn trees. The leaves like silver in the sun._

Her gaze drifted far away as she thought of the beautiful land she had spent a month residing in. She had trained there and solidified her friendships there.

Tears coursed down her cheeks, mingling with the elf's blood. Further conversation was impossible for Thunin as his lungs continued to fill with fluid. Lana sang to him as his death throes came upon him. It was so hard to just sit there and do nothing. Her throat constricted but she persevered, determined that his final moments be filled with something beautiful.

She felt the moment his life flew away, his hand loosening in hers as his last breath escaped his parched lips. The warmth of his body diminished.

Thunin of Lothlórien had passed.

Lana gazed down through her tears at his face. She saw that his eyes were closed and there was a trace of a smile that graced his lips. Her description of Lothlórien had given him some peace, and her song had eased him on his way.

But for her, a lost woman who was even more foreign than this elf, her pain was just beginning.

Lifting his bloodied hand to her lips she kissed it, then she leaned forward and kissed his forehead.

_"Mae cuinar ned i dhaim o Mandos, Thunin."_ She murmured to him._ Live well in the Halls of Mandos, Thunin._

Slowly she got to her feet and turned. The people gathered around her stared with round eyes as if she was some alien thing. The woman who had ran to fetch the water stood frozen seeing that she was too late.

Hot tears flowed freely from Lana's eyes creating tracks in her dirty face. Her lips were stained with the elf's blood, and she stared blankly at them all as if they weren't even there.

Somewhere in her brain, a signal was sent to her feet and she walked away. The crowd parted leaving a wide berth. Murmurs followed behind her, hushed whispers, but she didn't hear them. Nothing mattered. She had witnessed yet again the worst possible thing: Death.

And now she wanted to be alone.

Lana hid away in a dark corner and grieved over the passing of such a beautiful being, and she grieved for her friends who might well die alone on the battlefield without comfort.

Hugging her knees, her body shook as she sobbed forlornly.

o0o

Aragorn could not comprehend how so many uruk-hai scaled the walls in such a short time. They came like a black wave. No matter how many were brought down twenty more seemed to take dead ones' places. They were ruthless as they fought and they killed indiscriminately and with great gruesome delight.

The Ranger watched in horror as young boys, old men, and hardy warriors alike were stripped viciously of their lives. Battle was ever chaotic, but this one outweighed all his previous experiences. Lost in the fracas, he could no longer see Gimli or Legolas.

Four uruk-hai advanced on his position. Aragorn gripped his sword tightly and lunged at any who dared to challenge him. Despite the lack of rest, the Heir of Islidur fought on. He was determined to see the dawn and a world free of the fear that gripped it so violently.

He battled on and on, the pain in his body a dull reminder that he was alive yet. But exhaustion was nipping at his heels. His feet stumbled but he recovered quickly. His sword met with a sharp _clack!_ on an uruk-hai's brute scimitar. With a yell, Aragorn pushed against his opponent then stepped sideways. The uruk fell forward and tumbled down the backside of the wall.

Aragorn did not have time to feel anything in that small victory. With the sheer number of uruk-hai, it was not long before they had him surrounded. He swung and parried using every ounce of his strength to stay alive. He grimaced as a thought flashed through his mind: they seemed particularly interested in him. And he did not understand why. But there was no time to think on it.

One after another fell under his blows but they continued to come at him. He raised his sword to slay another when something large fell against him. With a cry he jumped aside startled out of his wits. Turning he saw the body of an uruk-hai fall to the stones beside him. An elvish arrow protruded from the creature's neck and another one from its side.

Aragorn had not been aware that the beast had been behind him.

Someone saved his life.

Another arrow whirled wildly and buried itself into the arm of a nearby orc. The creature howled in pain. Aragorn took the opportunity to finish it off with a clean thrust into its neck. Yet another arrow found its mark in the thigh of a nearby uruk.

Aragorn whirled slitting that one's throat then turned his head to scan for the archer. He caught a glimpse of a warrior firing the arrows from the ground some twenty yards away. The warrior was dressed in ill-fitting armor and they wore a heavy Rohirric helm that seemed to fall forward too far over his face.

The warrior was not large in stature and Aragorn assumed it was a youth. Fleetingly he wondered where the lad had gotten a hold of the elvish arrows. Many of his shots went wide, showing the lack of skill, but enough found their mark.

Aragorn took the opportunity granted to him and lunged with his sword at the uruks that pressed upon him. He slayed each of them in their turn. A sudden sharp cry made the man spin around.

To his horror, he saw that his young savior had been shot in the side by a black arrow. The adolescent fell to the ground, grasping at wound as the uruk-hai archer lunged towards him.

Aragorn charged down the stairs, desperate to rescue the young man who had saved him. But as he neared he saw it was not a man who had given him aid.

"Dear Eru," he whispered.

His breathing caught and stuck in his throat. _I know that bow…_ His heart hammered painfully.

The uruk-hai archer had dropped its bow and now lifted an ugly scimitar, but before the beast could deliver a fatal blow the warrior stabbed it viciously in the leg with a dagger.

Aragorn would have recognized that dagger anywhere. And he knew the hand that wielded it, just as he knew the bow on the ground. With a roar of outrage and panic, Aragorn threw himself at the manic orc and plunged his sword into its throat. They fell over, the weight of the fall ensuring that the enemy would not rise again.

Then Aragorn crawled on his hands and knees to the warrior's head. In his heart he prayed that he was wrong, that the warrior was not who he dreaded it to be—that somehow a boy had stolen the weapons. He lifted off the helm and his breath hissed as he saw he was not mistaken.

"You foolish girl," he managed between clenched teeth.

Lana smiled faintly as he pulled her head free of the heavy equipment. Her golden hair spilled over the muddy ground. The smile faded quickly, however, and she squeezed her eyes shut against the pain in her side.

Aragorn glanced down at the arrow protruding from her ribs. The enemy usually poisoned their weapons. Tears clouded the Ranger's eyes as his emotions got the better of him.

Without wasting a moment, he reached for the arrow's stem and snapped the shaft nearly down to the end. Then he scooped Lana into his arms, forcing himself to ignore her anguished cries. He opened his mouth to call for aid but closed it at the last moment.

Aragorn did not know what would happen if Legolas saw Lana like this. And he had no idea how Gimli would react either. He couldn't risk either of them becoming distracted.

"Legolas'…bow," came a faint distressed voice.

Without a moment's delay Aragorn lowered to the ground with Lana still in his arms and retrieved the fallen bow.

"They…they're after you…they know…" Lana told him through clenched teeth. Her head was vertiginous and her blood felt as if it was on fire. Numbly she wondered if this was what Thunin had experienced as he died. Aragorn looked down at her desperately.

"Do not speak! Save your strength!"

"No!" She gasped, her right hand gripping his tunic fiercely. "They know…they won't stop 'til you…you're dead. The future…King… of Gondor."

"Do not speak!" Aragorn commanded harshly.

The Ranger was dizzy with indecision. The uruk-hai were approaching him again. He could not fight with Lana in his arms and she needed to be brought to safety and have the arrow tip removed immediately.

He caught sight of a familiar face fighting nearby. "Derngar!"

The soldier of Rohan turned sharply at the sound of his name. He rushed over when he saw whom Aragorn held. The younger man shook his head in disbelief.

"I saw the elf take her to the caves, how did she—"

"There is no time! Take her back to the caves! Make haste!" Aragorn ordered.

Derngar was undeniably not his first choice, but he was here and Lana needed help immediately. The soldier glanced upwards towards Théoden and Gamling on the high wall.

"If you cannot leave your post then find someone that can bring her to safety." Aragorn swallowed. "I beg you," he pleaded softly.

"I will bring her," Derngar answered resolutely. "I owe it to her after what transpired between us."

He opened his arms and Aragorn lowered Lana into them and set her bow over her. The Ranger turned to leave but was stopped by the hand that latched onto his leather jerkin.

"Aragorn," she whimpered. "Don't leave me…please…"

He swallowed hard. Lana was petrified and her voice shook. Her blue eyes were wide and already turning feverish. Her hand was beginning to shake from the effects of the poison.

Looking deeply into her eyes, Aragorn saw that she feared for him. Just as she feared for herself—that she would die, never to see any of them.

Aragorn gripped her hand tightly. "Remain strong. Cling to hope! We shall see you after the dawn. I expect to see you recovering."

He released her hand quickly and leveled a stern look at Derngar. "Bring her to Lady Éowyn."

Derngar nodded and then Aragorn was gone.

"Aragorn?" Lana called as her vision started slurring.

Shapes and bodies elongated oddly. She saw bright colors and strange glows everywhere she looked. A whimper escaped her throat. Aragorn had just been here and now he was gone. Within her disoriented state she became panicked. She was alone. She was going to die alone.

"Aidan?" She called succumbing to deliriousness.

She had forgotten that Derngar held her until he began moving swiftly through the battle, dodging orcs and his kinsmen as he ran back toward the keep. Lana clenched her teeth tightly and bit her tongue to keep from screaming. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth and the sounds around her grew louder and louder until she thought she would go deaf.

Her body felt warm and cold at the same time. She thought she was being skinned alive. Her body shook uncontrollably until at last she cried out pitifully.

"Do not die on me, my lady, or that elf will surely have my head," Derngar grunted dryly as he continued to run.

_Legolas…._

Oh, how she longed to hear his sweet voice! She would give anything to hear him sing to her, or to feel his warm body against hers as he promised everything would be well.

She looked wildly around for him, but that made her dizzy and clamped her eyes shut.

She thought no more about the fair elf or anyone else. All sound, touch, smell, and thought fled her as she sank like a stone thrown into the swift and dark river of Lethe.

* * *

_Thoughts? _

_Thanks for reading! _


	32. A Heart's Cry

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story. **

I make no claim to Tolkien's works_._ I also give credit to Cormak3032.

* * *

**Chapter 31: A Heart's Cry**

Bodies were everywhere. Men, elves, and orcs were scattered where they fell all across the great fortress of Helm's Deep and the land beyond. They lay in piles: enemies, friends, and some alone. Red blood stained the earth and the stench of death was overpowering. The aftermath was a grisly sight to behold.

Crows perched on the walls. Their rough _caws_ as powerful as mourning bells. Flies came in the thousands. Time did not wait for the dead. Decay was coming.

Many of the men wept bitterly while others retched. Still others mourned as they laid out the bodies of their comrades for burial. Numerous songs of lamentation lifted on the wind.

Legolas' heart grieved for the large loss of life. So many of his kinsmen had died that night as they had been in the vanguard. But they would at least live on in spirit in the Halls of Mandos. The men were not so fortunate. Who could say where their spirits fled? None truly knew. And he felt a deep sorrow for the women and children left behind.

The bodies of the young boys were the hardest for the elf to see. Their lives viciously ripped away before they had even reached full maturity. Dead eyes stared up in blind fear never to see the sky again. Whole generations were wiped out last night.

As the Mirkwood elf walked along the bottom of the wall, he spotted Gimli sitting upon the fallen body of an uruk-hai soldier. Both the elf and dwarf had created some rivalry during the night. They took turns shouting out how many they had slain. It had helped make the battle quicken its slow pace. Legolas was heartily glad that the battle for Helm's Deep was over though it only meant that more war and death loomed on the horizon.

Last night all was believed to be lost when the uruk-hai blasted the outer wall sky-high and stormed the fortress. It was still amazing to all that they had managed to do such a thing. Devilry of Saruman the men spat, and they made signs with their hands to ward off evil.

But at the coming of dawn, Gandalf had arrived with over two thousand bloodthirsty Rohirrim. They had turned the tide of the battle as they thundered down the mountainside and drove the enemy to their deaths. A stunning victory for Rohan that would be immortalized in song.

Gimli was looking quite smug as he smoked his pipe and rested upon the uruk. As always his ax was near at hand. Legolas slowly smirked as he walked towards him. Casually, the elf ran his hands over his great Lórien bow.

"Final count, forty-two," he announced boastfully.

Gimli chuckled. "Forty-two?" He echoed as if he were truly impressed.

Legolas glanced at him, lifting a questioning brow.

"That's not bad for a pointy-eared elvish princeling," the dwarf congratulated him. "But I'm sitting here on number forty-three," the dwarf said complacently and puffed on his pipe.

Legolas' brows lowered over his eyes. Impossible! How had Gimli beaten him?

Without a second thought, the elf notched an arrow on his bowstring and with lightening speed released it. It shot between the dwarf's legs, embedding in the side of the orc. Legolas straightened and smiled.

"Forty-three," he announced primly.

"It was already dead," Gimli stated flatly. He was not at all amused to have an arrow shot so close to…well.

"It was twitching," the elf nodded at the corpse with an innocent face.

Gimli opened his mouth to retort when he noticed the sparkle in Legolas' eyes. "Hmm…your fair eyes deceive you, elf. You wish to win so you may impress the lassie with your count."

Legolas' eyes widened. "Entirely untrue!" He promptly denied.

Gimli smirked and crossed his arms. "As you say, lad."

Legolas turned away as he felt his face flush uncharacteristically. Embarrassment was not something the elf was accustomed to.

"The women and children are leaving the caves," he commented, changing the subject. The excitement in his voice was unmistakable.

"Lana should be among them," Gimli grunted and puffed on his pipe again.

Legolas nodded but did not turn his eyes from the hallway that led to the Glittering Caves. "I do not see her yet. But I do see the Lady Éowyn. She is embracing Aragorn."

The woman held the Ranger tightly for a moment, and then urgently began to speak with him. Legolas lost sight of them in the growing swell of people. His patience waned as he searched for some sign of Lana. But she would be one golden head among many. He looked at each new woman carefully before moving to the next refugee.

He watched as survivors embraced their loved ones with relief and joy. He saw others cry bitterly when they learned that their men had not made it. Emotions ran the gauntlet and tension was high.

It was some time later when the line of women and children began to trickle to nothing more than a few stragglers that Aragorn approached Legolas. The elf met him halfway, while Gimli remained behind, chatting to a soldier.

Legolas smiled and put a hand on Aragorn's shoulder. The Ranger did likewise.

"I feel fortunate to have survived this night," Aragorn said tiredly.

"Aye, myself as well. Many were lost."

Aragorn nodded pensively. Legolas frowned sensing strange emotions from the man. They were not ones of relief and victory, but of fear and loss.

"Something troubles you. Your mind is heavy as is your heart," Legolas commented with a perplexed face.

"You sense too much," the man complained.

"Tell me what has happened."

"Haldir is dead," the Ranger murmured sadly. "He fell during the retreat to the keep."

Legolas bowed his head at this news. He did not know Haldir well, but he had respected the March Warden. This would be a heavy blow to the Golden Wood.

"He will be sadly missed," Legolas replied. Silently he offered a prayer that Haldir found his way safely to Mandos' great halls.

Aragorn nodded and licked his dry lips. Legolas narrowed his eyes observing the man.

"There is more," he noted.

Now the elf sensed worry and guilt from the Ranger. When the man did not look him in the eye and remained mute, Legolas grew concerned.

"Aragorn?" He inquired when the silence became too long.

The man exhaled roughly. "The soldier came out of nowhere, dressed in Rohirric armor," he began in a rush. "They saved my life by firing arrows and killing several uruk-hai that cornered me. I had no idea who it was until they took an arrow and fell to the ground…and then I saw your Mirkwood bow at their feet…"

Legolas inhaled sharply at this unexpected news. His eyes grew wide as saucers even as his heart stopped. Immediately his throat went dry. He could not form any words. He prayed to Eru and all the Valar that Aragorn was not saying what he feared.

"At first glance, I thought she was an adolescent boy who wished to help me," Aragorn said, recounting the harrowing memories.

Legolas unconsciously clenched his hands. His breathing became harsh and it hurt his lungs. Yet Aragorn's words pained his heart even more.

"Lana?" He whispered in dread.

Aragorn swallowed hard and nodded.

Legolas became abruptly still.

"She somehow knew that Saruman's servants wanted me dead," Aragorn continued. He brushed his thumb over the Ring of Barahir upon his hand restlessly.

"As she lay on the ground an uruk tried to finish her off, but she used the dagger given to her by the Lady of Light and plunged it into the beast's leg. It slowed the uruk down, but it made him angry and he moved to strike her down. I killed him before he could harm her further. But she had already been shot." There was deep regret and pain in Aragorn's tone.

Legolas stood as motionless as a marble statue, but on the inside his mind whirled. _This cannot be!_

_"Hîn cuina?"_ He demanded softly. _Is she alive?_

Aragorn lowered his gaze. _"Ú-istan."_

Wildly, Legolas tried to collect himself. To an outsider he appeared composed, but Aragorn knew better of the situation. The blank face told the Ranger more than anything else. The prince was frantic, just as he had feared Legolas would be.

_"Dan…Manen pul-hen na? Hîn darthanne vi fili." But…how can this be? She stayed in the caves._

_"Nay. Hîn mine i dhagor,"_ Aragorn said with heavy regret. _No. She entered the battle._

Legolas' tone grew harsh._"Hîn adaneth — i yrch bell. A onech hîn dâf maetha?"_ He accused. _She is a woman. The orcs were strong. And you gave her permission to fight?_

_"Ú-agoren anna dâf hîn!"_ The Ranger snapped back._ I did not give her permission!_

Legolas blinked, and Aragorn took a deep breath then released it. This was the second time they had quarreled in less than a day. The man lowered his voice when he spoke again. He knew that Legolas was upset, and he did not desire to argue with him.

"You know I wished her to be safe in the caves. You were there when I told her she could not fight with us. I would not change my mind."

Legolas did not reply. His heart raced uncontrollably, shaking the bars of its cage. It took much effort to keep his breathing even. He had expected horrible things to happen this night, but not this…not Lana.

"I know not how she escaped the caves," Aragorn continued when Legolas did not speak. "Only that she was dressed in Rohirric armor and that she knew the enemy was plotting to kill me."

_"Ú-bennich nin,"_ Legolas whispered brokenly. _You spoke to me not._

The anguish in the elf's voice made Aragorn wince. The Ranger knew this moment approached, but that had not made it any easier.

"I did not want you to worry during battle," he continued earnest, his tone pleading for understanding. "If any concentration was lost you may have faltered."

Legolas knew that Aragorn meant well. But worry gnawed at his innards making him grow ever more anxious.

_"Goheno nin. Rûth nín…" Forgive me. My anger…_

Legolas looked into the man's eyes. Aragorn was not unfeeling and remorse assaulted the elf for shouting at the man. Aragorn was experiencing the same grief he was.

_"Mas hîn? Aniron an cennin hin." Where is she? I desire to see her._

Aragorn peered at the elf as a thought suddenly occurred to him. Legolas had been speaking in his native tongue for nearly their entire conversation. That only happened when Legolas was with his own people, or if he meant to be discreet…or if he was upset.

"Derngar took her to the caves."

Legolas' eyes darkened at the name.

"I had no choice but to ask him. There was no other near at hand for the task."

Legolas nodded grimly but was still displeased.

"I am told that Derngar died defending her."

The elf hooded his eyes. So the man had proven himself before the end. Legolas prayed that the soldier now dwelt with his ancestors, but he couldn't completely forgive the man. Not yet just yet…

"She was frightened when I left her." Aragorn swallowed and looked at the ground.

He could still hear Lana's petrified voice echoing in his memory. It pleaded with him to stay with her. The very recollection of it stung his heart most bitterly. He never wanted to hear her cry like that again.

"Lady Éowyn told me she tended Lana, but the Shield Maiden had been separated from her due to her duties. I know not how Lana fares at this moment, but she lived last Éowyn knew."

This information tore at Legolas' already bleeding heart, and he suddenly clutched at his chest as if in physical pain. Aragorn understood the severity of the agony the prince felt. Not many would have noticed how much the elf was hurting, but the Ranger had gotten to know Legolas very well over the last several months.

The Prince of Mirkwood lifted his head and silently asked permission to leave.

_"Bedian Lana,"_ he told the elf. "There is nothing more for you to do here." _Go to Lana._

Aragorn dismissed him and Legolas did not have to be told again. He tore off towards the caves, his senses numb. Blindly he pushed past people he had helped only the day before. Whereas earlier he had studied and watched these people keenly, now he did not even notice them.

He came upon Éowyn speaking with a soldier. She immediately turned when she saw him approaching her swiftly.

_"Mas hîn?"_ Legolas demanded.

Éowyn looked at him in confusion.

"Where is Lana?" He asked again, this time in the Common Tongue.

The lady frowned at his question. Had Lord Aragorn not told him? She had seen the Ranger and the elf speaking.

"She is in the caves."

_"Where_ within them? Can you tell me?" Legolas demanded in haste.

Éowyn regarded him oddly. The elf was habitually reserved and collected, but now he seemed jittery. The pupils of his eyes darted left and right, seemingly unable to focus on her. He shifted his weight restlessly.

"Through the cavern doors, and then sharply to the right. Down the stairs and you will see her."

Legolas nodded and started forward. He halted when Éowyn's hand rested upon his shoulder.

"We did not have the proper tools to sew her injury after we removed the arrowhead. She lost a lot of blood, my lord, and remains unconscious." She warned him.

Legolas nodded again, his throat constricting. Breaking away from her before he lost his composure he walked in stiffly towards the doors. As he moved he realized that this eerily felt like the day before when Aragorn was thought to be dead. The anguish and pain resurfaced to plague the Mirkwood elf; only this time he did not have the comfort of the woman he cared for to help him cope.

His pace quickened to a run though not a sound was made as his soft leather boots touched the stone floor.

As he raced through the hallway, the memory of his departure from Lana before the battle flew through his mind. It only served to torture him further. He remembered the feel of her body against his, her warm lips on his cheek as she kissed him goodbye…his own heart-stirring with new and unexplored feelings within him before he pulled away to depart. Now the memory mocked him.

The few people who remained in the hallway watched the fair elf rush into the caves. Many of them suspected that he returned to the outlandish woman who could speak the tongue of the elves.

Following Éowyn's instructions, Legolas descended into the Glittering Caves. He moved on silent feet down the stairs. Ahead he saw two women and their young children crouched around a body on the stone ground. Legolas felt his throat tighten further, making it difficult to breathe.

There was Lana, her golden hair a dark matted mess. Her face was pale, and her body deathly still.

One woman dabbed a damp cloth upon Lana's forehead while the other held her hand. The young children were staring with wide fearful eyes. One of them caught sight of him frozen on the steps.

"An elf! An elf has come!" He shouted with wide eyes.

The woman who had been cradling a little girl and Lana's hand turned to regard him. She was young, but it was clear by from the lines on her face that she had known many hardships already. Her hair was fair, but her eyes were a deep dark brown.

She rose, adjusting the frightened little girl in her arms. "Please, you must help her! She is burning with fever."

Legolas descended the remaining stairs slowly; his eyes focused only on Lana's body. Blood stained bandages were wrapped around her and her eyes were closed. Sweat pooled and streamed down her face. A fever burned savagely inside of her. Her breathing was labored. She gasped for air between lips parted by only a few centimeters.

The acrid scent of blood, sweat, and poison made the elf want to reel back. But he didn't. Instead, he moved towards her as if in a nightmare. Nothing else existed but this horrid vision.

As he neared he could see now that her body trembled intermittently: a fine tremor as if the life within her was vainly trying to burst free. Her Lórien cloak was nowhere in sight and there were no blankets wrapped around her. Quickly Legolas unclasped his cloak and draped it over her in a vain attempt to keep her warm, and to shield her from the eyes of the growing crowd of onlookers.

While elves did not get sick, there were times when they were injured and their bodies created fevers to fight off infections. Legolas had been a member of the border guard in Mirkwood. He had seen much death and suffering in his life. He had watched comrades die from injuries such as this. While Lana's wound was not deadly in of itself, the infection and orc poison certainly were.

"She needs a healer…" Legolas said aloud. His hands shook and he attempted to still them by placing them palms down onto the cold stone floor.

"You are an elf. Can you not heal her?" The other mother asked. Her red-haired daughter looked beseechingly at him.

Legolas shook his head in grief. "I possess not the skills to heal her."

The girl started to cry and grasped her mother's hand. "She will die will she not, Mother?"

Her mother pulled her close, stroking her red hair. "I don't know, Léofwyn."

The boy started to bawl. "I don't want her to die!"

"Hush now, Gram!" The boy's mother drew him close. His younger sister stared wide-eyed at Legolas then at Lana.

"You may go to seek your families," Legolas bid the women. "You have done a great deed in staying and helping this woman."

"Lady Lana helped our children get to Helm's Deep when we were separated," Léofwyn's mother said. "It was the least we could do for her."

"Your kindness will not be forgotten," Legolas told them as they rose to their feet.

He slid his hands beneath Lana's body and gently lifted her into his arms. She did not move or cry out. Her head rolled limply back against his chest.

"Where will you take her?" Gram's mother asked.

"Away from the prying eyes of others." Legolas stated and he glanced around, his gaze catching the curious stares of the bystanders.

Legolas took a step to leave when Léofwyn's mother put a hand on his shoulder. She quickly pulled it back as if burned when he glance down at it.

"Please let us know how she fairs. We…we've lost too many this past night."

Legolas nodded and moved away with Lana in his arms.

He thought of bringing her to the small room attached to the armory, but he was certain it was filled with people now. Instead, he brought her down two flights of stairs to a small tunnel. Hay and grain was stored there for the horses.

Legolas sat down slowly in the hay, Lana still held securely in his arms. From above came the dim sound of voices. Shouting. Crying. Grieving. He blocked them all out as Lana received his full attention.

Gently so as not to jostle her injury, he tucked his cloak about her body. She remained unaware of everything. Beads of sweat rolled down her face. Legolas studied her countenance. She bore various small nicks and scratches upon her cheeks and nose; most likely from the heavy helm she was unaccustomed to wearing.

Some part of Legolas felt proud. How Lana must have looked dressed in armor and firing arrows at the enemy with his old bow! Unbidden his lips quirked, but it was a sad smile.

After studying her with his eyes, he brought up his hand and explored her features with his fingers. Her skin burned hotly with the fever. Sometimes her body shuddered fiercely. Gingerly he wiped the sweat from her brow and smoothed the damp hair from her face.

He touched her cheek and jaw, willing her awake and wishing he had a healer's touch. When his thumb grazed over her lips, however, something completely unexpected happened.

It was as if the sun broke through the foreboding clouds. The dark trees that had fiercely protected their prince's heart felt the sudden light and warmth of the sun. All the vines and distrust that kept his soul in doubt and solitude fell away and mighty trees were reborn. His heart pounded loudly in his chest as all was revealed to him in the span of a few beats of it. He gazed down at the ill and injured woman in his arms and a sense of intense wonderment seized him.

Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of Mirkwood, son of Thranduil, was no longer different from the others of his kind. Many things that had confused him during the last several weeks made sense now, and he wondered how he could have been so very blind and naïve.

One of the greatest gifts of the Valar had finally touched him centuries later than it should have. But instead of the overwhelming joy he should have felt at this discovery, grief, agonizing pain, and fear overtook him.

So suddenly, Legolas Thranduilion realized that the dying mortal woman in his arms was the one his heart had chosen.

* * *

_At last! _

_To my fellow Haldir lovers - I waffled about sticking to the film and Cormak's version of Helm's Deep. Haldir is one of my favorite characters and I hate to see him die. But I have reasons that will be revealed in the sequel as to why I kept his death in this story. But let's not get ahead of ourselves! We got one star-crossed lover; now we need to get the other on board. _

_Want more? I always enjoy your reviews._

_As always, thanks for reading! _


	33. Avo Visto o Nin

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story. **

I make no claim to Tolkien's works_._ I also give credit to Cormak3032.

Many thanks for the many reviews!

* * *

**Chapter 31: _Avo Visto o Nin_**

A soft moan brought Legolas out of his disoriented state. He gazed down at the mortal woman in his arms and his heart lurched in his chest.

Lana was extremely pale; her body was shaking even as her lips trembled and tears streamed from her closed eyes. She moaned again as consciousness began to return. Legolas reached for her, resting a soothing hand on her face.

"Lana? Can you hear me?" He called desperately.

His heart railed madly in his chest as he waited with baited breath. Her eyes opened slowly and she looked in his direction but grimaced and quickly squeezed them shut again.

A whimper and then a cry escaped her throat. They were deafening to his elvish heart and they caused Legolas to wince. His brows furrowed deeply. Lana was in terrible pain and he was helpless. She bled through her bandages and the fever raged on. Yet all he could was hold her and pray.

She started to cry, which only aggravated her injury and this caused her to cry harder. Legolas pulled his cloak tighter around her. Then he trailed his fingers up and down her face, wiping the tears and sweat away. He captured one of her straining hands and gripped it tightly, hoping that she could feel him. The sight of her in such abysmal agony ripped great holes in his heart.

He brought her cringing hand to his lips. "I know it hurts, Cairnmel, but you must attempt not to cry. It will cause more harm than good." Legolas tried to inject confidence and assurance into his voice, but it trembled with her.

The elf did not know if she could even hear him. Her breathing was coming in ragged gasps and he wondered as she tossed her head back and forth if she was delirious.

"Leg-olas…" she choked out between sobs.

He gripped her hand harder so that she would know that he was here with her. He opened his mouth to speak soothingly in his native tongue when he heard the sudden silence. His eyes widened and for one long horrible moment, time stood still.

Lana no longer cried. Legolas feared that she had at last succumbed to her injuries. His heart rammed against his ribcage as terror overwhelmed him.

_Not her! Not now!_

His fears ebbed like a tide when he saw the rise and fall of her chest and he knew she still drew breath. He exhaled shakily and struggled to still his panicked heart. He pressed her fingers to his lips again.

Lana had fallen unconscious once more. While it kept her from feeling pain, it did nothing to ease Legolas. Concern and anxiety saturated his entire being.

Time passed slower than the prince could ever remember. He willed it to quicken so that Lana would be well again. But time would not bend to the will of a single elf. Instead, it continued to crawl, which left Legolas disconcerted by the lack of patience he felt.

He was barely aware of the footfalls and voices that approached them some time later.

"Legolas?"

The sound came from up the stone stairs nearly thirty feet away. The elf's eyes widened.

"Aragorn!" He called out. His voice bounced through the caves.

The footsteps quickened and grew louder. In moments, Aragorn arrived at the entrance of the tunnel. Legolas saw that he was not alone though he did not recognize who stood near his friend.

"We have been searching for you. Two women and their children are worried about Lana. They attempted to find a healer among their own people, but none could be spared." Aragorn began.

Legolas inhaled sharply. No healer to spare? Did they not know Lana was _dying?_ He trembled with anger and dread as he brushed back the damp hair from her face.

"Her fever grows worse, Aragorn. The poison is killing her. She needs help!"

Aragorn's eyes swept over the fair-haired elf as he cradled Lana's limp form. It was as if Legolas trembled in illness with her.

"I have brought aid. I only hope that I have brought it in time." He stepped aside, and the hooded figure behind him moved forward. The hood lowered and revealed a pale face with long dark hair, brown luminous eyes, and pointed ears.

Legolas didn't know the elf that stood before him. He had thought all the other elves had departed Helm's Deep after the battle. They exchanged a polite nod of greeting.

"Although he is young, Elaryn studied healing with Lord Elrond," Aragorn told him. "Together, he and I might be able to help her, if it is not too late."

Legolas nodded slowly. He gingerly laid Lana in the hay and moved aside to give the healers more room. Aragorn frowned and gazed at Legolas with sympathy.

"We will need space and quiet to concentrate. We can afford no distractions."

Legolas brows lowered, almost dangerously, over his worried blue eyes. Aragorn was asking him to leave, but the mere thought caused his being to infuse with agony. Illogically he believed that if he left she would pass. He could not let that happen!

The pain that pricked his soul was not of the kind when struck with a sword or arrow but the anguish of one's heart. A deep hurt that was not so easily healed.

The discovery of his feelings for Lana was still so fresh. It provoked actions and emotions he was unaccustomed to.

"Come on, lad. Give them some room."

Legolas whirled to the doorway at the sound of Gimli's gruff voice. The dwarf had seemed to appear out of nowhere, but he must have been there all along. Legolas swallowed and against his will he nodded.

He did not want to leave Lana, but every moment he hesitated was a precious moment lost. Legolas squeezed Lana's hand gently. He leaned over her, his blond hair brushing against her heaving chest.

_"Avo visto o nin,"_ he whispered so softly that none could hear his words.

_Do not leave me._

He pressed his lips to her brow, then pulled back. Standing he silently acknowledged Aragorn and Elaryn with a curt nod before he left. The Mirkwood elf did not look back.

o0o

The bandages hastily wrapped around her body were soiled. They were never very clean to begin with, but now they were sopping with dark blood. Aragorn had removed the Lothlórien tunic from Lana's body. It was irrevocably ruined. Her blood had turned the sage green shirt into a muddled blackish-brown color. There was no point salvaging it.

Seeing the amount of blood that had soaked into the fabric made Aragorn's immutable hands shake. He left it to Elaryn cut away the bindings as he forced himself to think clinically. If Elaryn saw his difficulty, the elf was wise not to mention it.

The sudden stilling of the elf caused Aragorn to look up swiftly. The elven healer's hands were frozen in midair and his eyes were wide in surprise. Immediately his searched for the elf's distress. When he saw it he froze as well.

He was well aware and now accustomed to the tattoo on her right wrist. He found it strange that she would mark herself in such a way, but as with all things, time and exposure lessened the oddity of it. But staring down now he saw that she had far more tattoos than just the minor "_Invictus."_

Permanently marked into her skin on the left side was a whirling design made up of flowers, whorls, and animals. It curved from behind and around to her left hip. The design appeared to continue on her back with the top of it just peeking over her right shoulder.

Cherry blossoms, lilies, and other flora he did not recognize danced colorfully over her skin. On her hip there appeared to be an image of two standards lying horizontally and unfurled. The first one had red and white stripes with a blue square and white stars. Mirroring it was a standard of green with what looked like a golden harp. Hovering above them was a wreath of spade-shaped leaves. Within the laurel were for letters: SPQR. Above that was a cluster of large orange lilies with what appeared to be stripped lions coming out of them.

Elaryn's lips thinned but he said nothing as he covered her breasts for modesty's sake. Aragorn wondered at the images but shelved his questions for later. All that mattered was Lana's survival.

Her skin was still hot to the touch, but it prickled as the cold air of the caves caressed it. She moaned something incoherently.

"Shh, all is well," Aragorn said. _"Varnol. Gar îdh." You are safe. Be at peace._

The arrowhead had already been removed, but not by skilled hands. The flesh around the entry site was bruised and swollen. Apparently the Rohan healers had run out of thread for her wound was not sewn. It yawned like a red mouth.

With now clean hands Aragorn touched the lips of the puncture site carefully. It was hot. A faint yellowish-white ooze seeped out along with blood. Time was of the essence for the poison was already in her blood, but the infection would kill her much faster and more painfully if not treated.

The only thing that relieved Aragorn was the fact that none of her vital organs appeared to be damaged. No small miracle there. The arrow had glanced off the lowest rib on her right side and its path was diverted. Torn muscle and fascia would mend quicker than pierced lungs or intestines.

Working quickly, the Ranger and the elven healer plied all their skill and knowledge to save the woman's life. But Aragorn knew that in the end it would depend on Lana herself to pull through. Eyeing the amount of blood she had lost once more, Aragorn felt his heart sink.

o0o

The day had been chased away and now night descended. A cool crisp wind pulled some of the stench of death away. The moon and stars had returned to the sky, and they lit the world below in a ghostly blue glow. Helm's Deep was filled with ghosts though none could see them. Lamentations were heard on the air, but they were not nearly as lovely as the lament for Gandalf in Lórien, but just as stirring. Legolas dared not to think that one would be sung for Lana.

Most of the elves were gone now, and those that remained were nowhere to be seen. Some wondered if the elven army had just been a dream. Many survivors had spent the day burying family or friends. Now was the time to pick up the pieces.

The people of Rohan gathered around fires, telling tales, drinking and eating, while others slept through their sorrows.

Gimli released smoke through his teeth as he sat with his pipe. He and Legolas remained outside away from Rohan's citizens while Aragorn and the other elf tried to save Lana's life.

Gimli had been shocked and aggrieved to hear that she had entered the battle and became critically injured. Lana was a strange woman, but he enjoyed her company and loved her as a friend. She had proven to be most loyal to a cause that was not her own. The dwarf could not help but honor that. He prayed that she would not pass, but his heart grew heavier with each hour that slipped away.

He sighed as he watched Legolas. The dwarf never thought in all his years that he would ever feel such sympathy for an elf as he did at this moment. Currently, Thranduil's son paced back and forth, and then back again. The prince was distraught and it bothered Gimli.

"She is in good hands, lad. Aragorn will not let her die."

He had attempted several times to comfort Legolas during the past few hours but this was the first time the elf stopped pacing and paid attention to him.

Legolas' face contorted into a frown. "They have been in there too long. Something must be wrong." He muttered pensively.

"I'm certain they're doing the best they can, lad."

Legolas walked away, his hands entwined tightly behind his back. "What if it is not enough, Gimli?"

The dwarf eyed him, releasing a cloud of white smoke. "Then it is not meant to be," he replied softly.

Legolas' head flew up at that remark. Lines appeared on the elf's forehead as his eyebrows drew together harshly. Gimli sighed. "You act as if you're the only one suffering from what has happened. Do you not believe Aragorn also hurts? Lana was injured saving his life."

Legolas shook his head turning away rigidly. "I do not doubt his torment. But it differs from my own."

One of Gimli's bushy eyebrows rose at that remark. A thought formed in his mind but he was unsure of it. He crossed his arms over his broad chest.

"How?"

Legolas cast a blank look upon his friend and then shook his head again. "You would not understand, Gimli, and I am not about to explain it."

The elf turned away and resumed his pacing.

o0o

It was a full hour later when Elaryn arrived with the news that they had done all they could. The fever still burned, but its intensity had lessened. It was up to the mortal woman now whether she lived or died.

Legolas and Gimli walked swiftly back toward the tunnel, and as they went in the word _fireb_ echoed in the elf's mind like a mantra. _Mortal_.

Aragorn looked exhausted when they found him sitting beside Lana. The fighting alone had made the Ranger tired, but attempting to heal Lana and pushed him over the edge. His gray eyes were bloodshot and his movements were slow.

"You should rest," Legolas told him. "I will stay with her through the night."

Aragorn nodded wearily. "I will return to check on her."

It was just two hours past midnight when Aragorn came back. The Ranger looked slightly rejuvenated, but still not his usual self. Sleep had not come easily to him, and his dreams had been restive with so much on his mind.

Aragorn exhaled as he saw Legolas. The elf looked as if he had not moved since the Ranger last left. He sat beside Lana, his hand holding hers and his eyes not leaving her form. He had tucked his cloak as well as some hay firmly around her body to keep her warm.

"You should eat and seek some rest," Aragorn told him. The elf did not stir. "Legolas?"

"I am not hungry, nor am I weary." His voice was flat and his eyes didn't leave Lana.

Aragorn cocked his head and carefully regarded his friend. "I will gladly keep watch for you."

"That is not necessary," the prince said intractably.

"Legolas…"

The elf looked up at him then and Aragorn saw the grief in his blue eyes. They had lost their luminosity and held only a dull ache that caused the Ranger to worry. Aragorn knew that elves felt things more strongly than those of other races, but he believed Legolas was being unreasonable.

"We all wish for her to survive. You are not alone in your grief." Aragorn said with a faint touch of irritation. If anyone should be grieving it should be _him_. His eyes shifted to the woman who lay motionless on a bed of hay and straw. His heart clenched at the sight. "She might well give her life to save mine. Do you not believe that weighs heavily upon me?" He asked emotionally.

Legolas shook his head slowly, his blond hair a stark contrast upon the dark leather of the armor he still wore. He gazed at Lana's long hair and rolled several locks between his thumb and forefinger. It was damp and it made her hair seemed darker than it truly was.

"She knows who you are to become…she knows how important you are to Middle Earth…"

Aragorn replied. "She has surprised us all with her bravery or stupidity." He sighed. "She should have never disobeyed."

Legolas raised his head and met Aragorn's eyes. "But she did."

The two of them were silent for a few moments until Aragorn spoke again. "Will you not allow Gimli, Gandalf or myself to stay with her?" He attempted again.

"I do not wish to be parted from her," Legolas told him, dodging the man's stare.

In that moment, things began to make sense to the future king. Aragorn's brow lifted in astonishment and then in disbelief. Legolas glanced sideways at the Ranger and saw the recognition in Aragorn's eyes. He knew he could not hide much from the man. He had spent too many years in the company of elves to not recognize this for what it was.

"I fear that if I leave her side for but a moment she will pass," Legolas admitted gravely. "We nearly lost her once. When I think about losing her now my heart feels as if it is being squeezed tightly. It is as if some unknown force intends to rip it from my chest and leave me forever in agony over the loss." His voice had grown husky with emotion.

"You have grown to love her as a dear friend," Aragorn reasoned. "As we all have," he added, his voice cracking.

Legolas shook his head. "That is what I once believed."

Aragorn lowered his head, dreading what his friend was saying. Then raised it to look at the elf. This was impossible. Yet the look in Legolas' eyes was unmistakable. Even so, Aragorn needed to hear it for himself.

"And what do you believe now?"

Legolas looked directly into Aragorn's eyes. His gaze was unwavering.

"I am in love with her," he whispered.

Aragorn exhaled loudly and rubbed a hand over his face. Legolas lowered his eyes from the man and looked to Lana. "She is your friend. She has been injured in battle and you are concerned for her." Aragorn tried again.

"It is much more than that."

Aragorn tilted his head to one side and stared at Legolas. "You have never shown any interest in women in all the years I have known you. Adventure is your passion. You must be mistaken."

Legolas jaw grew taut. "Why must it be a mistake? Because she is mortal?" Legolas demanded. "If she were elven would you be questioning how I feel?"

The accusatory tone took Aragorn by surprise, but he did not allow it to show. "Legolas, you know how I feel about Arwen. Just as you know that love between Elves and the race of Men is rare. The knowledge of your feelings for her is…unexpected."

Legolas sighed and lowered his voice. "Eru Ilúvatar has finally graced me with this gift and I do not question it, Aragorn. I only know it to be how I feel."

"It may be that you love her as a friend. A very close friend." Aragorn argued.

Legolas shook his head again; his pale hair cascaded down his shoulders. "Nay. She is the one my heart has chosen."

"How can you be certain?"

Legolas continued to gaze at Lana. Tenderly he stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. "How does fish know how to swim? Or an eagle to fly? How do we know to breath when we are born? It is an instinct.

"I have often wondered how an elf knows when they have found their match." He went on. "I thought it was nonsense when I was younger. But there have been times I desired to know the feeling." He smiled sadly. "It is not a customary feeling, like hunger, pain, or joy. It is a presence that surrounds the body, the mind—the _fëa." Spirit._

Legolas turned his attention to Lana's hand and his fingers lightly traced their outline.

"It is all a bit frightening." He murmured quietly. "She knows not how I feel..." He closed his eyes for a moment and willed away the fear that she might never know.

"I have never been in love before," Legolas went on. "She is mortal; not of this realm; and now is not a sensible time to fall in love," he said in distress.

_"Meleth ú-'arn daeg."_ Aragorn told him placing a hand on the elf's shoulder. "It can come unexpectedly and sometimes we do not choose who we love. They only choice we have is whether to stand along side them or not. You have much to consider." _Love has no boundaries._

Legolas nodded. "I am making no decisions about the future. All I desire at present is for her to _live."_

Aragorn nodded silently, feeling rather numb at the turn their conversation had taken. Of all things the Ranger might have expected when he returned to Lana and Legolas, this was not one of them.

"How many did we lose during the night?" Legolas asked softly, changing the subject.

"Five more. The total is one hundred and fifty-nine."

"Nearly half the Rohan army." Legolas noted with grief.

"Terrible indeed, but not as terrible as it could have been."

Legolas nodded. Everyone could have perished. He turned to Lana and gently took her hand into his own. Her skin was warm with the relentless fever. He stroked her hand lightly with his long fingers, then pressed a kiss to it.

"Let us hope that she will not be among them." The elf whispered hoarsely.

* * *

_Thoughts? More?_

_Thank you for reading! _


	34. Absence

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story. **

I make no claim to Tolkien's works_._ I also give credit to Cormak3032.

A quick author's note: There are a couple of Sindarin words that I leave untranslated in the text. I will put their translations at the bottom.

* * *

**Chapter 33: Absence**

Time meant nothing in the tunnel. There were no windows from which the moon could be seen. Its voyage across the sky was left unmarked by Legolas. Only Aragorn's arrival heralded the dawn.

But something was wrong. Legolas could sense it. The air around the Ranger was tense.

"How is she?" He asked softly.

"Neither worse nor better," Legolas answered truthfully.

Despite the healing performed by both Aragorn and Elaryn, Lana's fever still raged. The elf watched as Aragorn stood in the doorway.

"Her fever will burn itself out with time." The Ranger commented confidently though he still worried.

Legolas thinned his lips. "One can only hope. She needs nourishment and while she sleeps with fever she receives none."

Aragorn remained silent for several moments, watching as Legolas stroked Lana's hairline. The elf touched her hair and skin over and over again as if worshipping a deity. Each touch was filled with the utmost tenderness. Aragorn cleared his throat, the noise sounding like a shout in a sacristy.

"We leave for Isengard shortly."

Legolas' eyes widened at this news. "We cannot abandon her!" He told Aragorn fiercely. The elf's eyes flashed with a blue rage at the thought of leaving Lana behind.

But Aragorn shook his head. "We are not abandoning her," he placated. "The women and children will be returning to Edoras. Lana will travel with them. And we shall ride to Edoras as soon as we have concluded our business at Isengard.

"She is too ill to travel. She could…" Legolas was not able to bring himself to say the word. He swallowed hard.

"It is a risk we must take, _mellon nín."_ Aragorn replied firmly. "She will receive better care in Edoras then she will in this dirty, bloodied fortress."

Legolas bowed his head. He forced his wild emotions to settle down so that he could see sense. Aragorn was correct. Lana _would_ receive better care in Edoras. And while the elf loved Lana and did not want to leave her, he could not abandon his duty to the quest. The quest was more important than either of them.

Once again his feelings and desires would have to wait.

"When do we leave?" He inquired flatly.

Aragorn noted the tone of his tone grimly. "Lady Éowyn is on her way down with two soldiers and they will place Lana in a wagon. Éowyn has agreed to watch over her as often as she can. She promised that she would be well cared for. Once they arrive we shall leave. The others are already waiting for us."

Legolas nodded stiffly. While time seemed to crawl during the night, it now it passed as if trying to make up for standing still. Far too soon, the Shield Maiden arrived with the two soldiers. Legolas was forced to stand back and observe them as they lifted Lana and carried her away.

The Prince of Mirkwood was accustomed to the feeling of loss. He had lost his mother when he was a youth, and it devastated him. But the loss he felt when Lana left his sight was different, though just as overwhelming. It was difficult to breathe and the constant pain in his heart would not release.

He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked at Aragorn. As Legolas peered into the man's eyes, the elf knew that he was not alone. Legolas better understood now how Aragorn had felt when he was forced to leave the Evenstar behind in Imladris.

Legolas straightened his stature and brushed the hay from his clothes. "Let us go,_ mellon nín,_ to deal with our foe," he told Aragorn in a clear voice.

o0o

The air was muggy despite the cold. The waters of Isen had yet to recede from the compound of Isengard. The lake that had formed was treacherous. Unsuspecting riders could suddenly find themselves in a deep hole dug up by Saruman's uruk-hai.

Outside the gates the royal retinue had set up a bivouac. Fires were lit to ward off the chill and the darkness. While the men rejoiced in their victory over the fallen wizard, many of their leaders sat with heavy minds.

As for the lone elf, he stood separate from the others who talked around the fire. Legolas was still dressed in the leather armor he had worn during the battle of Helm's Deep. He had not cleaned himself and stunk of orc blood as well as his own sweat and blood—all of which stained his clothing. His normally flawless hair bore tangles and looked dirty.

Saruman, the former White Wizard, was dead. And so too was the once magnificent forest that had ringed his tower of Orthanc.

On the ride here, Legolas had marveled at strange forest that seemed to have appeared overnight at the edge of Helm's Deep. While they had destroyed the orcs that had entered beneath their boughs, they allowed Gandalf and his companions pass through unharmed.

For the first time since they had left Helm's Deep, Legolas' thoughts had turned from Lana. The trees spoke to him in ways the trees of Mirkwood could not, and it had amazed the wood elf. These giants soothed him, purging their anger and concentrating on the elf as he passed beneath their swaying branches. In return their ancient presence pacified his ravaged soul.

When he and his companions left the forest, Legolas had felt such a terrible loss. He wanted to stay and forget his troubles and learn from the wise trees. But Gandalf would not allow it. So, Gimli and Legolas had struck a bargain. If Gimli traveled with Legolas to Fangorn one day, then the elf would join him in exploring the Glittering Caves of Helm's Deep.

And then the discovery of Merry and Pippin early that afternoon had caused Legolas to smile. But now that the world was quiet and heroic deeds were done for the day. Legolas had nothing to distract his thoughts from Lana.

The firelight danced against his silhouette as he stood several yards away. Lost in his thoughts he knew not what the others talked about. His entire focus was internal as he dwelled on Lana. Was she awake and feeling better? Or was she still burning with fever and on the edge of death?

The very thought of her dying caused the elf to shudder visibly as if he were chilled. While Legolas had seen death among both men and elves, Lana's death would be much different, and far more painful.

Legolas almost didn't hear Gandalf approach him. The wizard smiled gently by way of greeting as he stepped beside the elf. Then he drew out his pipe, and methodically filled it with Long Bottom Leaf.

Gandalf gazed up at the moon and stars, which Legolas refused to look at. Now every time he saw the glittering heavens he was reminded of Lana.

"It is a fine evening," the wizard opened.

"Aye." Legolas agreed softly. "Isengard has been secured by the _Onodrim_; Saruman is no more; and the hobbits are safe." _Ents_.

"Indeed." Gandalf paused and lit his pipe, while studying the Mirkwood Prince.

The pain that surrounded the young elf was thick as treacle. It was a wonder that the prince could breathe at all. Gandalf pursed his lips thoughtfully before he spoke.

"I was certain the return of our young hobbits would have lightened your spirits."

Legolas glanced sideways at the wizard, attempting to conceal the sadness in his eyes, but Gandalf saw it regardless.

"They have lightened my spirits, Mithrandir." He said, but sighing he continued. "But not my heart." His gaze shifted to the grass under his boots, seeing the dew forming like carpet of tiny crystals.

"Ah, yes. Your heart is full of many emotions. Fear, guilt, hope…love." Gandalf smiled as Legolas' head shot up. Chuckling he continued. "I may be old, _mellonneth,_ but I am not blind. You have been wearing your heart on your sleeve since we left Helm's Deep. The others may not have noticed, but I certainly have. The _adaneth_ has captured your heart quite ardently, has she not?"

Legolas stared at him, but nodded slowly after a moment. "It is so overpowering. It is not as a thirst that plagues my tongue or a wound that hurts the flesh. This fills my entire being and no matter how hard I try, I cannot shake it. It happened so rapidly."

"Nay, love is not sudden, Legolas. And those who claim it is do not feel love, but lust." Gandalf explained. "Love requires time to take shape and grow into something cherished and wonderful. Though the realization of your feelings may seem sudden, your affections were not. Long have they been in the making. You simply did not recognize them before now."

Legolas met Gandalf's wise eyes, feeling at a loss. "How did I miss the signs, Gandalf? They appear so clearly to me now."

"Love can be blind. We have been on a great quest traveling from place to place. Your mind has not been on romance or even the possibility of it, I would expect."

The elf nodded.

"You developed a strong friendship with Lana. With time that friendship blossomed into something more within you. But because of the quest, the constant change of scenery, you did not discern it until now. Not until Lana was injured and possibly dying did you realize what she meant to you."

Legolas closed his eyes. He could still see her lying in the caves; the two women and their young children kneeling beside her; the bloody bandages, the sweat dripping down her skin and her harsh, labored breathing. His heart clenched at the memory. He shook his head trying to dislodge the image when another took its place.

Someone he had not thought of for many long weeks came to his mind. Uncertainty filled him.

"Everything I have been taught, centuries worth of knowledge has not prepared me for this." His brows drew together. "By loving her I break the unwritten edict to not love beyond our own kith and kin."

His gaze dropped to the grass again as this new worry gnawed at him. His hands curled into fists. Seeking Gandalf's eyes once more, he continued. "You know my king, Mithrandir. He will likely disown me."

Gandalf released a plume of smoke. "Your father will undoubtedly be greatly troubled by where your heart lies. But," he held the elf's uncertain eyes. "No matter what he says or what he believes, he cannot change your feelings."

The wizard tilted his head then and smiled at the elven prince. "You have always been drawn to mortals, Legolas. Ever since you were an elfling and a wrong turn brought you and your young friends close to a camp of men from Dale. Since that day mortals have intrigued you. You share a great friendship with Aragorn, and now even Gimli." Here he chuckled. "So it is no surprise to me that your friendship developed into something more with Lana. And it should be no surprise to your father."

Gandalf stood a bit straighter, his gaze becoming unfathomable. "Thranduil will have to learn to accept whatever choices you make, or he will risk severing himself from his only son."

Legolas bowed his head. There were so many complications! His mind was whirling, already thinking of a future that might never be—and Lana knew not how he felt!

Gandalf put a hand on Legolas' shoulder. "You need not worry over such things now, _nethernil_. There is much to be done in the world before you return home. Think pleasant thoughts this night. The world is a safer place with Saruman and his filth gone. It is a safer place for Lana."

Legolas nodded slowly. "Absence makes the heart grow fonder," Gandalf quipped as he stepped away.

The wizard's words did not soothe Legolas' pained and confused heart. No matter what Gandalf had told him, he continued to miss Lana with a passion that astonished him. And he worried about her with a relentless fervor. He tried to distract himself but to no avail.

Merry and Pippin were singing songs around the fire. Pippin seemed preoccupied but still sang drinking songs. Legolas observed them for a time, recalling how often he took pleasure in singing in days past. It had been too long since he had last burst into song.

Looking away, the elf became consumed with his own thoughts again. No one had told the hobbits about what had happened to Lana, and it seemed best not to until it was discovered how she fared.

Sometime later Legolas slipped away into the darkness. Aragorn watched him leave, and was about to go after him, but Gandalf shook his head at the Ranger. With a sigh, Aragorn settled down and stared at the jumping flames of their fire.

Sometime later a soft lilting voice filled the air. Few could hear it, and of those that did only Aragorn and Gandalf know the meaning behind the pining words. The men and hobbits were soon lulled to sleep by the sweet refrain, not understanding but still feeling the yearning behind the words.

o0o

It felt as if days had passed instead of hours. The dawn was sluggish and it made Legolas was anxious. Arod noticed it the minute the elf sat upon the great steed. The gray stallion pranced in place and tossed his head, rattling the bit between his teeth and tongue.

"I have never seen him like this before! I will not ride if he does not calm down!" Gimli exclaimed as he watched the capricious stallion.

"He is anxious to run, Gimli. He senses that my need to return to Edoras is dire." The elf explained dully. His mind was on little else but on getting to the capital.

"Well, do something to make him stop sensing. He is making me nervous!" The dwarf groused.

Legolas put a hand on Arod's arched neck to calm him. The stallion snorted loudly and tossed his head twice before settling.

To the elf's disappointment, the great trees of Fangorn had moved off during the night. He had suspected they had gone by the sounds he had heard, but some part of him held onto the hope he would set his eyes upon them at dawn's first light.

Legolas was forced to rein Arod in once the group began its journey toward Edoras. The stallion would have galloped off at full speed if Legolas gave him his head. But the elf held Arod in line with the other horses.

"Tell him to stop! Tell him to stop!" Gimli cried from behind Legolas.

The dwarf clutched the elf tightly and closed his eyes. Arod's gait had become choppy due to the stallion raising his front legs higher into the air in his excitement.

"He's doing it again! He's sensing! Making him stop sensing!" Gimli commanded.

"I cannot, Gimli, for I cannot hide my anxiety to return to Lana."

Gimli groaned and clenched his teeth. "Then this shall be the longest ride I shall ever endure!"

The ride to Edoras was just as painfully long for Legolas. The land seemed to stretch out forever beneath Arod's flashing hooves. Barely did the landscape change, and every time Legolas thought he would see Edoras shining in the sun over the next hill, he was rewarded with another length of grassy plain. For every stride it felt as thought another five miles would grow between them and their destination.

When the riders finally reached the capital it was only a few hours from nightfall. Legolas held his breath, trying to force his heart to slow its furious pounding. _Only a bit further_, he told himself as they rode through the gates. He had not thought of much other than Lana, and he both dreaded and hoped at what state he might find her in.

He had only just discovered his feelings and already they held such sway over him!

Upon arriving at the royal stables Legolas both thanked and apologized to the stallion. The horse had carried them swiftly indeed, but Legolas had not the patience to tend to the animal's needs. A groom appeared and assured him that Arod would be well take care of. Legolas then followed Aragorn out of the stables toward the Golden Hall. The elf's eyes roamed every which way for some sign of their female companion, but only unfamiliar faces greeted him.

Upon entering the hall, Legolas was surprised to see Lady Éowyn in the throne room. Aragorn had told him that the lady would tend Lana, yet here the Shield Maiden was, with no sight or sound of Lana nearby. Senselessly his heart gave one solid _thump!_ in his chest as his fears got the better of him.

The fair-headed lady greeted her king and brother home warmly. Legolas was anxious to ask where Lana was and how she fared. He was tempted to interrupt the superfluous greetings so that he could get the answers he needed. It was Aragorn who managed to get Éowyn off to the side and asked the question burning on the elf's tongue.

"She is staying within the city. There is always so much activity in the hall. I thought it best if she remained somewhere quiet." Éowyn told the Ranger.

"How may we find her, my lady?" Aragorn asked.

"She resides in the first house to the right as soon as you exit the hall."

Legolas wanted to ask how Lana was, but he held his tongue. He watched as Aragorn nodded his thanks and then joined him.

"We shall see how Lana is and then I must return."

The elf nodded and fell in step with Aragorn. They exited the hall and moved adroitly onto the main street. The building they stopped before was similar to all the others in Edoras. Dark wood made up the exterior walls and the roof was thatched, appearing golden in the sinking sunlight. Horses were carved into the lintels. Smoke was rising from a chimney and a large pile of firewood sat to the left of a wine-colored door.

Aragorn knocked and a short, plump woman with golden hair turning silver answered.

"Are you Legolas?" She asked without preamble. Despite her abrupt greeting she was well-spoken and her clothes were finer than many.

The Ranger shook his head. "I am Aragorn," turning he gestured to the elf beside him. "This is Legolas."

The woman's eyes widened. She tilted her head back and let her eyes trail over the Prince of Mirkwood.

"You're an elf?" She asked in amazement.

Legolas nodded.

"Well, I don't believe it!" The elderly woman gasped.

Aragorn smiled warmly at her comment and then cleared his throat.

"Ah, yes, the girl." The woman remembered snapping out of her wonder. She stepped aside to let them in, her eyes not leaving Legolas' form.

"Is she awake?" He asked as he walked inside. The words rushed out before he could stop them. The woman shook her head though.

"She is not at present, but she awakened today on the journey. Her fever broke during the night while we camped. She awakened this morning just after dawn. She complained that her head was hurting her, and she was rather confused, but then she took rest again. She has not stirred since."

Legolas nodded, a bit disappointed at the news. A small part of him had hoped to see her awake, perhaps even sitting up in bed when they arrived. But he thanked all the Valar and Eru she was alive at all.

"She asked for you several times," the woman said as they moved further into the house.

Legolas felt hope spark through him when he realized the woman was addressing him. "She asked for me?" He inquired.

The old woman smirked. "You are Legolas, are you not?"

He nodded.

"She asked for Legolas several times. Lady Éowyn told her you had gone to Isengard, but you would return within a day's time."

"May we see her?" Aragorn inquired.

"Aye of course."

She led them across the small kitchen with a packed dirt floor. A clay stove and a wooden table and chairs were a situated off to one side. Toward the back hung a heavy curtain of deep red with gold trim and a white horse galloping across the center.

"She is the room there. If you have need of me just call. My name is Ammora."

Aragorn smiled. "Thank you, Ammora."

She dipped her head before returning to her neglected task of peeling vegetables.

Aragorn held back the curtain and let Legolas proceed before following. The prince released the breath he had been unconsciously holding, and it came out much louder than he had meant it to.

The room was small. Light from the fading sunset streamed in from the two south-western-facing windows. Green and mottled brown horse rugs covered the packed dirt floor. There were two stools made of the same dark colored wood that the house was constructed of. A stone fireplace with a stone mantle was situated on the far wall. One small table with a linen cloth thrown over it had an unlit lantern sitting on it. Aligned against the southeastern wall was a medium sized bed.

Lana laid on her back under the blankets and green quilt, her hands resting limply on top of the coverlet. Her long hair spread across the pillow and feather mattress. Her skin was not quite so pale and the small cuts and bruises on her face appeared to be healing. They all had become scabs.

"She looks well," Aragorn commented quietly as he stepped beside the bed.

"Aye. Thanks to you and Elaryn." Legolas breathed with relief.

"The healing helped, but she is strong."

Legolas nodded. He pulled one of the small wooden stools to the edge of the bed near Lana's head so that he could sit beside her.

"I am curious as to how her wound is healing," Aragorn remarked. "Surely they have tended and bandaged it several times."

Legolas did not answer. His attention was solely on the woman who lay sleeping before him. Aragorn watched Legolas for a few moments. It was obvious now that the elf was smitten with Lana. Aragorn wondered how he could not have seen something developing between them sooner.

While part of him was happy for the Mirkwood elf, a weight of equal measure threatened to pull that joy down. He thought of Arwen and their own plight. Though he loved her with everything that he was, Aragorn would not wish such a doomed love on anyone else. Particularly when that someone else had not the Choice as his lady did.

He put a hand on Legolas' shoulder. The prince startled slightly and turned to him. "You stay here with her for now. I shall return to the Golden Hall." He told the elven prince.

Legolas nodded and watched Aragorn leave before turning his attention back to Lana. He studied her, enthralled by the sight of her. He reached out and stroked her hair letting his fingers brush over her skin. The sun set and Ammora entered the room to light the candles and the lantern. Still Lana did not stir.

Legolas began to worry. The tension that grew within him was like a bowstring drawn back to its fullest. It required release or it would snap if held taut for too long.

Why was she not awakening! Her fever was broken and her outward appearance showed her to be healing. She needed to eat. Had she not received enough rest?

A soft moan caused Legolas to shudder involuntarily. He swallowed and drew in a sharp intake of breath as Lana moved slightly upon the bed. Her eyelids fluttered, opening slowly. She glanced to her left, towards the light from the windows. Her brows lowered in confusion as she tried to decipher where she was. Finally she noticed him sitting to her right.

She squinted in the dim light.

"Le—Legolas?"

* * *

_Mellonneth: _Young friend

_Adaneth: _woman (mortal)

_Nethernil: young prince_

_As always, thanks for reading._


	35. Reunion

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story. **

I make no claim to Tolkien's works_._ I also give credit to Cormak3032.

* * *

**Chapter 33: Reunion**

The elf exhaled sharply and his eyes clouded with moisture. His brows lowered even as his lips parted with unrestrained emotion. He reached forward and brushed the thumb of his right hand along Lana's hairline. It was dry—no longer damp and hot as it had been only a day ago.

Lana closed her eyes at the touch and then opened them tiredly. Everything felt heavy and she could feel her head pounding with her heart. But as she roused the sensation lessened. She peered into Legolas' face, gazing at the smooth flawless skin. The volume of emotion in his eyes was staggering. Such intense concern and pain; it made her feel uncomfortable.

"I thought I would never see your beautiful sapphire eyes open again," he whispered with such anguish that it took Lana's breath away.

She exhaled with the realization that Legolas thought she might die. A stabbing-like sensation shot through her midsection caused by her breath. She winced, hissing through her teeth.

"You are in pain," Legolas whispered softly.

Lana nodded stiffly. "A little," she acknowledged and immediately changed the subject. "Are we in Edoras?" She asked, breathing shallowly.

"Aye. We are in a house just outside the Golden Hall."

Lana sighed slowly and attempted to ignore the throbbing she felt at such a small motion. She wondered if there was a Middle Earth equivalent of vicodin somewhere.

"The others?" She wheezed out. She had been too disoriented and afraid to inquire about her other companions when she had last awakened.

Legolas smiled broadly then. "Aragorn, Gimli, and Gandalf are well." His smile widened. "Merry and Pippin have joined us from Isengard."

Lana's face lit up with the news and were she feeling well enough she would have jumped out of bed and danced for joy. Instead, ecstatic tears misted her eyes.

"You don't know how happy that makes me."

Legolas brushed the back of his fingers across her face and smiled.

"And Haldir? Is he still here?" Lana asked with a grin. She greatly admired the stoic March Warden and was surprised at how she actually missed his dry humor.

Legolas' smile immediately disappeared, and Lana felt her heart drop like a stone. For a moment out of time she felt her heart thump painfully. She swallowed back the sudden thickness in her throat trying to compose herself.

"He…he didn't make it…did he?"

Legolas lowered his head and shook it slowly, his blonde hair cascading down his shoulders.

"Oh God…not Haldir," she murmured with a shaky voice. Her eyes shut tightly.

How could the heavens have let this happen? The elves were undefeatable warriors! Or so she had believed. Images of Thunin flashed through her mind and the once happy tears immediately vacated her eyes, pushed out by sorrow.

"Who else?" She gasped.

Legolas looked up into her demanding eyes. More than anything, he wanted to spare her this pain, but he knew that keeping the truth from her would only hurt her more.

"Derngar and many of his people were slaughtered," he murmured sadly.

The elf did not expect the loud choked sound of pain and grief that filled the air. He watched as Lana twisted in physical and emotional distress. He reached for her, but she pushed his hand away and lay on her uninjured side, facing away from him. Her muffled tears soaked her pillow as she sniffed.

His heart tightened in his chest. She was hurting and she had refused his comfort.

"Lana," he whispered brokenly

Gradually she turned back around, grimacing as her wound stretched and moved. Unable to lie on her right side she stayed on her back, staring at the ceiling. She squeezed her eyes shut trying to compose herself. Eventually, she turned her face back to Legolas.

Everything hurt so much: her body; her heart. Childishly she wished to go home. But she didn't say that aloud.

"Why?" She asked through clenched teeth.

Legolas looked down at the floor and then gazed into her tearful eyes. "It was their time."

"No," she exhaled as another sharp stabbing feeling shot through her side like an electric shock. "Why the hell am I still alive when so many others died? Why didn't I die?"

Legolas inhaled sharply at her words. They pierced his soul like a poisoned blade.

"Do not ever say such a thing!" He told her passionately, his voice cracking. "Eru did believe it was your time."

Lana's chest heaved shallowly as she tried to slow her heart and prevent the spasms of agony that was caused by just breathing. Ignoring the discomfort she choked out, "I saw boys…some of them were so young! Just little kids…And warriors—great warriors fell!" She exclaimed emotionally. "And yet…I live," she added, her voice little more than a whisper.

_"Istan, Melethril,"_ Legolas murmured.

Lana reached for Legolas' left hand and pressed it between her cheek and the pillow. Legolas felt her warm wet tears spill down through his fingers. If she were hale and whole he would have gathered her into his arms, and held her tightly to his body. But all he could do was let her hold onto his hand.

"It was not your time," he said again, brushing her hair back with his free hand. "And I thank Eru a thousand times over for sparing your life. Just as I thank him for allowing me to live so that I may see you again."

His words were full of raw, passionate, emotion—his voice low and heavy. He stroked away her tears with tenderness. Then he reached for her other hand, which was clamped shut beside her on the wool-stuffed mattress. Legolas gently pried her fingers open, entwined his fingers with hers and gave her a gentle squeeze. She clutched in return.

"I know you are anguished, but you must not cry. I fear you may tear your stitches."

Lana swallowed, sniffed, and forced herself to calm down. Tired of lying on her back she attempted to sit up. Her injury screamed at her as it moved and stretched. She gasped, whimpered and swore, her breath hissing through her teeth. Closing her eyes as frustration mingled with everything else she forced herself to breathe through the stinging. Then she peered at Legolas.

The Mirkwood Prince looked a right wreck, she noted. His dark brows were lowered over his light eyes, and his lips were parted due to his heavy breathing. His body was tense much like it was when he sensed danger on the plains of Rohan before the wargs had come.

"I wish I could have harbored you from all this…"

Legolas silently wished they had left her in Lothlórien. Then he selfishly took the thought back. He would have never formed the friendship they had if she had remained behind. He would never have fallen in love with her...

Legolas felt the palm of her hand lift and rest upon his face; her thumb stroked his cheek even as her fingers smoothed over his skin.

"I feel safer whenever you are near," she told him honestly.

His heart flooded with affection for her and he feared that if he did not say something it would burst. He closed his eyes as her fingers traced his jawline. _Elbereth!_ Did Lana realize how she made him feel?

"Here is something I thought I would never see," she said distracting him.

Legolas opened his eyes and saw that she stared at him intently; her gaze roaming over his features as her lips curved slightly.

"What is that?" He asked softly.

Her lips curled almost playfully; her tears drying. "You're dirty."

Legolas' eyes widened, and she laughed lightly though it pained her to do so.

"Your hair is tangled—in fact most of it has fallen out of its braids. And your clothes are dirty, all full of grime—and you're still wearing your armor," she cataloged.

Her smile faded then and she dropped her hand. She had never seen him look like this, and he had battled before. Her mind started working, piecing these clues into a realization.

Legolas chuckled lightly though it was devoid of humor. "My appearance has been the last thing on my mind these past days."

Lana's brows drew together. "This isn't like you at all. I've never seen you like this." She studied him further, and then she frowned. "I...I did this, didn't I?" She realized with self-recrimination.

Legolas shook his head quickly, but Lana swallowed and protested. "Yes I did. My crazy actions…"

Grasping her hand in both of his, Legolas stared deeply into her eyes. "You quite possibly saved Aragorn's life. I have never been more honored or proud to know you."

She gave him a look of mild annoyance and then embarrassment. But at last she gave him a half-smile. She squeezed his hand lightly. In response, Legolas lifted it to his lips and then positioned it over his pounding heart.

His expression and how hard his heart was pounding beneath his chest startled her. There were sorrow and pain in his eyes along with something else she couldn't identify…he had worried about her deeply. The air was thick with a tension she didn't understand. And she didn't have the brainpower to solve it at the moment.

"Legolas, what is it?"

The elf brushed his fingertips over the back of her hand not breaking eye contact with her.

"The Dark Lord himself could have challenged me to a duel and I would not have been as frightened as I have been these past two days."

Lana's lips parted as she realized just how afraid he must have been to learn that she had been injured. She had acted so rashly and without thought.

"I'm sorry…" she offered lamely, swallowing hard. "I remember asking for you when I awakened. Éowyn said you had gone to that Isengard place, and that you would return. I passed out again, but I heard her say that you had stayed with me the night after the battle."

Legolas nodded. "I went to find you the moment I learned you were injured. I stayed with you for as long as I could…" The elf glanced down and inhaled recalling those agonizing hours he had waited. Then he exhaled deeply.

Lifting his eyes, he looked intensely into Lana's. "When they came and took you away it felt as if my heart would break…"

Stunned was hardly adequate to describe her feelings. Lana's brows lifted and her lips parted as her mouth hung open mutely. Legolas' words were thick with emotion. She knew that he cared for her as a friend, but she did not realize the extent of his emotions. Gimli had once said that elves feel more intensely than mortals. But she never truly understood what that meant.

Guilt assailed her. No wonder he had reacted so passionately when she asked why she still lived! Clearly her death would have hit Legolas very hard. Removing her hand from his thundering chest, she reached again for his face, wishing to soothe him. Legolas cupped her palm to his cheek and closed his eyes at the touch of her cool skin.

She was shocked when she felt tears touch her eyes again. "I'm so sorry," she murmured. "I'm so sorry I fought…sorry that I worried you and the others…_Goheno nin…"_

Legolas opened his eyes and slid her palm to his lips. Pressing a gentle kiss on her flesh, he looked into her watery eyes. His mouth lingered on her palm as his heart ran away liked a stallion.

Lana could feel his warm breath on her skin. He was breathing much heavier than normal. And he was looking at her very intensely. For the first time in a long time, she felt unable to hold his gaze. It felt as if the temperature in the room had risen, as did the tension.

Legolas exhaled in a rush. "Lana…there is something I must tell you—" He tensed suddenly, cutting off his words.

Someone was entering the house. He heard Ammora and two familiar voices. He lowered Lana's hand, laying it beside her on the bed. She gave him a baffled look until she too heard the voices. Her eyes widened, and Legolas sensed excitement rise within her.

"Where is she?"

"Can we see her? We want to see her!"

Moments later two hobbits burst into the room and whatever Legolas was going to say was lost. He relinquished his seat and stood, choosing to step away into the shadows of the room. His stoic mask fell into place as he tried to slow his thundering heart. The hobbits hardly noted him as they crowded around Lana's bed.

"Thank the rocks that roll!" Pippin cried out.

Lana's face lit up at that remark and she laughed. The action hurt and she clenched her teeth, sibilating in pain.

"Oi! You're still hurting," Merry exclaimed. Concern etched into his youthful features. Then he looked in confusion at her. "Strider said he and the elf healed you."

"Her injury was severe and will still take some time to mend fully."

Lana and the hobbits glanced up to see Aragorn standing in the doorway. Legolas had heard man's approach but had remained quiet. The Ranger was holding back the curtain that separated the room from the rest of the house. He leaned casually against the doorframe.

"Aragorn," Lana smiled, relieved tears misting her eyes. Greedily she looked him over noting every feature. He was alive and well and she was so happy. She held out her hand to him and he moved further into the room and took it.

"All we need is Gandalf and Gimli," she said gladly, glancing at each of her companions. She squeezed Aragorn's hand.

Her eyes, however, lingered on Legolas who stood in the shadows and she felt her heart skip a beat when he smiled affectionately at her. Even in the shade of the corner his expression seemed to illuminate the whole room. Her hand let go of Aragorn's.

"Gandalf is with the king and Gimli prepares for the feast," the Ranger told her.

"Feast?" Legolas interjected.

"To honor those who died," Merry told him. "Food is being cooked and people are gathering in the Golden Hall as we speak."

"And delicious smelling food it is too!" Pippin added, with a wide grin. "Roasted boar and mutton, and the potatoes! All kinds of potatoes—fried, boiled, mashed!"

"The hobbits wanted to see you before the feast." Aragorn smiled.

He had stepped back slightly to make room for the halflings again and held his hands together behind his back. Lana chuckled lightly, hiding the pain she felt from the simple movement.

"I'm honored to have come before your stomachs!" She told the hobbits teasingly.

Merry and Pippin both grinned. "You shall always come before our stomachs, fair lady—and that makes you a _very_ important person!" Pippin quipped, smiling.

"How are you feeling?" Merry inquired in a more serious tone.

The laughter faded from his features, and worry lined his face. Lana attempted to sit up, not liking that she was greeting her friends on her back. She grimaced and sighed.

"Well, I've certainly been better," she joked, with a smirk. "I'm in pain; everything hurts everywhere—and…I'm really sad that so many lives have been lost."

She paused as moisture clouded her eyes again. Legolas shifted his weight uneasily at the sight of her distress. Lana did not see this, however, and she continued.

"But I'm also _so_ happy that you are here with me," she finished, gazing at each of them in turn, smiling through her jumbled feelings. She held out her hand and Merry took it and squeezed gently.

Lana looked fondly at him and then at Pippin. She was a right emotional wreck, but she did her best to mitigate it. Being in pain drained one's strength for hiding thoughts and feelings.

"We heard that you slayed a couple of uruk-hai! Did you really fire arrows with Legolas' old bow?" Pippin asked excitedly.

Lana nodded. "I did—but I have no idea how I managed it! I was so scared!" She confided with a grin.

"Despite her fear, she triumphed," Legolas said aloud, causing everyone to look toward him. "She saved Aragorn's life," he boasted proudly.

Aragorn cleared his throat at that. "She was indeed brave and surprised us all." He gave Lana a heartfelt look. "I do not wish to cut our visit short, but now that we know she is awake and well we must prepare to join the others."

Pippin pouted, and Merry sighed. Neither of them was quite ready to leave, even though there was feasting to be had. Merry reached again for Lana's hand and pressed his lips gallantly on the back of it.

"We will be back to see you. Very soon," he added with a cheeky smile.

Lana smiled and actually blushed. "I sincerely hope so," she replied.

"You can count on it!" Pippin exclaimed.

Her smile broadened. Oh, how she had missed the hobbits! She watched as they waved at her wildly before they left the room chattering. She could hear them prattling on about what sort of foods and ales there might be at the feat.

Legolas returned to the stool beside the bed. "I will stay with Lana," he informed the Ranger.

Aragorn studied Thranduil's son before speaking. "Théoden hoped that you would say a few words at the feast in the elven tongue for those of the _Eldar_ that fell in battle."

Legolas looked to Lana. He did not wish to leave her alone. "And what of Lana?" The elf asked boldly.

Lana blinked. This was the first time that she could remember Legolas not submitting eloquently to a request from Aragorn.

"Ammora is preparing a warm bath with salts to help her injury. She will not be alone."

"Go on, Aureos. I'll be alright," she told him, patting his arm softly. "A bath doesn't sound like such a bad idea. In fact, you could do with one yourself," she teased lightly.

The elf sighed knowingly and nodded. "Aye, the stench of battle clings strongly to me."

Aragorn laughed and teasingly pinched his nose closed. "I had not noticed," he spoke, his voice sounding higher pitched.

Lana laughed breathlessly and Aragorn grinned at how easy it was to make her smile again. He removed his fingers from his nose and clapped Legolas playfully on the shoulder before stepping away. He started to lift the dividing curtain but looked back at Lana.

"I am pleased that you are awake, Lana," he said with sincere affection and warmth. "We will speak more after you have rested."

"I look forward to it."

There was a silent exchange between the elf and Ranger, and then Aragorn was gone; his footsteps fading as he went. They heard Ammora bid farewell to the man, then all was quiet again.

The elf drifted in deep thought and was startled when he felt Lana's fingers brush back some of his hair that had fallen from its bindings. He closed his eyes as her fingers made contact with the hairline on his forehead. He prayed to the Valar that she did not wander lower and touch his ear. Yet his mouth went dry in hopeful anticipation.

One innocent touch from her would be his undoing. Disappointment filled him when her hand fell to her side, his ear untouched.

"Go on, Aureos. I'll be here when you return."

Legolas opened his eyes and sighed reluctantly. His heart was thundering within his chest. Everything in him was beseeching him to stay at her side.

"Go say something for Haldir…and the others that fell."

_Like Thunin._

Legolas' lips turned down knowing that he defeated. He couldn't deny her anything, even if it meant leaving her side for several hours. He leaned over the bed and placed his lips upon her forehead. His mouth lingered as it had with her hand earlier, and Lana felt her pulse quicken.

_"Ú-vistan annan,"_ he whispered._ I will not stray long._

Her eyes drifted closed and she swallowed at the low husky tone of his voice, but before she could contemplate it any longer, Legolas had gone. The curtain rustled, waving back and forth from his abrupt departure. Then it stilled.

She stared at the space that the elf just vacated amazed at his ability to just disappear. Her throat constricted uncontrollably as she thought about Haldir, Thunin, and even Derngar. He had only been a young man after all—he didn't deserve to die.

In her mind's eye, she saw the faces of all the men she had tended. Most had died. An overwhelming sense of failure assailed her. It wasn't warranted. She knew that. She wasn't a doctor, but…somehow she felt as if she should have been able to do more for them.

Her thoughts turned to those who had survived—to the Fellowship. Her lips trembled and she silently swore at her fragile emotions. Grief was heavy on her soul even though those closest to her had survived. It didn't make any sense, but there it was. She didn't want to cry. Lana hated being vulnerable.

Many times during her assignments she had witnessed such senseless acts of violence. Whenever she was confronted with the bad and vile things that happened to her she would instinctively feel guilty. After all how could her troubles compare it to those who had lost it all? She never wanted to pity herself—and she refused to acknowledge her own hurts.

But after Afghanistan she had been so broken that she didn't know how to come back, or if she ever could. The damage had seemed insurmountable. Thinking about the other women she had met in her life whose losses outweighed her own did nothing to help heal her. If anything, it made her feel worse. And she had fallen into a deep depression that seemed unending.

Slowly with her brother's help she had rebuilt her self-worth. She felt stronger in some ways—if not completely healed. But arriving in this world tested her every strength, conviction, and belief. What had she ever done to deserve this? Why her? Was there a reason to any of it? It was these kinds of questions she had asked herself frequently upon arriving in Middle Earth.

But life rarely gave clean answers. She thought over everything she had witnessed from Moria to Helm's Deep. _And it's still not over._ Her lips drew down as she tried to hold back the torrent of frustrated tears. She _didn't want to cry_.

Not anymore.

With a heavy breath, she managed to suppress the flood in her eyes and heart away. This, of course, made her arrow wound scream at her and grit her teeth as the split flesh made itself known. Staring up at the ceiling she tried to clear her mind with a prayer her father had taught her in Latin as a child.

_Salve, Regína…Mater misericórdiæ…_

Over and over she murmured the words until they lost meaning but were filled with intention.

Ammora arrived moments later with a large robe of dark green. "Your bath is ready, my lady."

Lana watched as the curtain was held back and two strong men brought in a metal tub that was large enough for her to sit it. It must have come from the Hall for it was very large and well crafted. Next the men brought in buck after steaming buck of hot water.

After the men left, Ammora helped Lana stand. It was painful and she felt woozy, but she managed after a moment. With older woman's assistance she walked to the tub.

Much to Lana's chagrin, the Ammora stayed and helped her undress. While under normal circumstances Lana was far from shy about her body, the way the older woman froze and stared made her feel self-conscious. But Ammora said nothing though her eyes widened at the sight of her tattoos.

She assisted Lana into the tub and then helped her bathe. She kept up a pleasant chatter throughout which Lana remained mostly silent.

"I am preparing dinner. Do you like mutton and vegetables?"

Lana nodded. The idea of a hot meal made her stomach grumble. "Oh, yeah. Thank you."

The woman smiled and then clicked her tongue. "You are naught but skin and bones, my dear. Don't they feed you, these companions of yours?"

Lana smiled thinly. "We've not had much time for good meals lately."

"True enough," Ammora said pouring water over her head carefully. "But tonight I will make sure you eat well."

She helped Lana out of the tub and dried her off. Surprisingly she knew some herb lore and was able to tend Lana's wound. She dabbed a pungent smelling salve on the stitched area then went to retrieve a fine wool pad and some clean cloth.

Lana sat in her towel, but let it fall. She explored the wound with her fingers counting the stitches. Seven. It was an ugly wound on her right side. She supposed she should count her blessings that her tattoos were concentrated on her left. They would not be disfigured by the scar.

_Another_ scar. She frowned, her thoughts turning macabre. She turned her right hand over and braced her forearms on her legs so the soft undersides faced up. Her right palm had healed nicely and the dark pink scar was not so atrocious now. The stab wound on her left arm was still ugly, but she resented it less now than before. She was not pleased to have yet another mark on her body, however.

Then she wondered…who had stitched her up? Had it been Aragorn or the elf…or? She flushed hotly at the thought that perhaps Legolas might have been involved.

He had not mentioned assisting in her healing, but he had not negated the idea either. The hobbits had said that an elf had helped heal her. Had it been him? Had he seen her half naked while they stitched and bandaged her? Or _completely_ naked? When she awoke on the plains last night she was in a dress instead of the clothes from Lothlórien. So someone had changed her clothes while unconscious.

Lana swallowed hard at the idea and then thought about how oddly Legolas had been acting before he left. He had seemed far more attentive in those few moments alone than he ever had before; which was saying a lot!

Then she snorted, immediately dismissing any crazy romantic notions. This was Legolas she was thinking about: sweet, innocent Legolas who had probably had never seen a naked woman ever in his life. And who had never loved anyone. He had been concerned about her as the others had. He was an elf and he just felt more intensely, that was all.

Still, she could not dismiss how hard his heart had been pounding beneath the palm of her hand as he held it to his chest. Nor could she forget how uneven his breathing had been; or how his touches had lingered. And that look in his eyes…

Lana grumbled and pulled the towel back over her body. She forced herself to let go of these thoughts and images. This was not some fairytale she was living in. Happy endings were reserved for fiction. This was real life. It would be best if she purged any ideas of him loving her from her mind once and for all.

* * *

_As always, thanks for reading._


	36. Melethril

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story. **

I make no claim to Tolkien's works_._ I also give credit to Cormak3032.

* * *

**Chapter 35: Melethril**

Lana lay on the bed listening to the sounds of the feast's preparation. People were laughing, talking in the streets; even singing. They met family and friends. The sound of joy was evident in their mirth. All were gathering to commemorate the glorious dead.

Flames crackled in the fireplace across the room. Its orange glow made the shadows dance on the walls and ceiling. A log split from the heat of the fire, crackling and hissing as it settled against the metal grate.

Lana stared up at the ceiling, watching the play of shadows and light. Her eyes felt heavy and her mind sluggish. Sudden laughter outside her window made her eyes snap open again, and she blinked listening as the men carried on. She listened but it meant nothing to her as they spoke in their own tongue. Her eyes started to drift closed again.

That is until someone cleared his throat. Her heart jumped as her eyes popped open again, and she half hoped it was Legolas, but she instantly remembered that Legolas would not have announced himself.

"Gimli!" She breathed with true delight.

He stood in the doorway, holding back the curtain that acted as the door. Oddly, his ax was nowhere to be found and he was not wearing his ubiquitous armor or helmet. The wavy auburn hair on his head was wild and it flowed all around him as if it had a life of its own. He beamed at her as he walked into the room.

Lana forced herself upright, trying to hide the fact that such a simple movement still hurt. The bath had helped but it didn't cure the pain.

Behind Gimli came Gandalf dressed in his startling white robes. The wizard smiled warmly at her. Joy filled Lana's heart.

"It does me well to see you alive," Gimli said genuinely as he laid a gentle hand over hers.

"I'm so happy to see you too! I'm sorry that I worried you all," she said immediately. "That was never my intention." But she couldn't contain her grin.

"There is nothing to be sorry for, Lana," Gandalf said leaning against his staff. "Your bravery surely saved Aragorn's life. Indeed, there is nothing to regret in that."

"We do not have much time, but I wished to see how you faired." Gimli told her, and then he chuckled. "The elf has spoken of naught else but you since he entered the hall. He does not think of the coming feast with so much food and drink!" Gimli shook his head at the preposterous behavior of elves. "If Legolas were not in the king's company I am certain he would be here fussing over you." He wagged a finger teasingly at her, grinning the entire time.

Lana felt her face burn at the mere mention of Legolas. Inwardly she cursed. Gandalf smiled broadly at the sight of Lana's rosy cheeks but did not comment. She gave him an arched look before turning back to Gimli.

"Can you do me a favor? Promise me that you'll help Legolas enjoy the feast," she asked sincerely. "I know he's been worried. He seriously needs to chill out." She grinned mischievously, to which Gimli immediately picked up on.

He grinned, mirroring her intent and rubbed his hands together. "You worry not of that, lass. I will make certain the elf has a good time."

Lana smiled warmly. She could only image what she had gotten poor Legolas into, but she did not feel a single iota of guilt. A soft laugh manifested in her chest. What she regretted was that she was not well enough to attend. Slowly her mirth tempered.

"Gimli, will you give us a few moments?" Gandalf asked unexpectedly.

The dwarf nodded and squeezed Lana's hand. His warm brown eyes looked into hers as he spoke. "Rest well, young lassie."

She nodded. "Be sure to drink a pint for me," she told him.

Smiling with a promise that he would, he left. Gandalf neared her bed and sat on the stool where Legolas had been perched earlier.

"You look quite well." He mused approvingly. "The color has returned to your face and your injuries are mending."

She glanced down briefly, her lips curving slightly. "Well, I have good friends who took very good care of me," she added with true affection. Despite the cordial words, Lana was curious as to why Gandalf had sent Gimli away.

"You look well though your heart remains heavy." The wizard observed.

Lana's brows jumped up in surprise. Then she remembered that Gandalf was a wizard and was just as perceptive as elves. Perhaps more so! She gave him a shrewd look. He returned it with one of his own.

"There will be many decisions laid before you in the days ahead. Already you sense this. Trust in your heart to seek the proper direction. That is the wisest advice I can give you."

Lana frowned openly. It was odd advice—if it could even be called that. Of course, there were decisions to make. Would she now be separated from her friends? She was injured, and she had no desire to fight in any more terrible battles. And there could only be more ahead. Where would she live if they parted ways?

She glanced at Gandalf noting that he became pensive. There was a sadness hovering about him that hadn't been there before. A sense of dread filled the empty spaces in her gut.

"Why does it feel like you're saying goodbye?"

Gandalf regarded her thoughtfully. "There are no goodbyes; only different paths for a time. We will see each other again."

She snorted. "Philosophizing, Gandalf?" She shook her head, and the wizard chuckled.

She smiled, pleased that she was able to take away some of his pensiveness, even if her own still lingered. It was short lived though as he looked on her with more seriousness.

"I know not what the future will hold, Lana Rey. I only have feelings of what may happen. I will tell you that which I will tell the others."

Unnerved by his solemnity, Lana's heart beat a bit faster.

"Cherish the gifts given to you by Eru Ilúvatar. Cherish each day as if it were your last; and cherish your friends, for they will be valuable in the days ahead."

Gandalf studied her for a few silent moments. He could see her mulling over his words. Her face was contemplative as she hooded her eyes in thought. Then she glanced up at him, her lips twisting with uncertainty.

"Dwell not on what I have said. They are nothing more than the ramblings of an old, tired man." He sighed, and then he chuckled. "Rest for a time. I am certain before you know it, you will have an elf sitting by your bedside."

Lana flushed hotly at his words. Was it her imagination or did everyone keep mentioning Legolas in her presence? Suddenly a thought occurred to her: people might be reading more into her friendship with Legolas than what was actually there. She risked a look at the wizard. He was smiling mischievously at her, his eyes twinkling with merriment.

"I really worried Legolas, didn't I?" She asked softly, curious to see what Gandalf's response would be.

"Aye, you did. You worried us all. You disobeyed the orders of the king, donned the armor of his soldiers, and nearly lost your life. It was a foolhardy thing to do."

Lana ducked her head and toyed with the end of her hair.

"But it was also brave and honorable," Gandalf told her. "Why did you do it?"

Glancing up, she met the wizard's interested gaze. "I…I don't know…" she said, caught off guard by the pointed question.

Gandalf's bushy brows lifted. "You don't know why you risked your own life?"

Lana shrugged. "I wasn't really thinking about it like that at the time," she said honestly. "I just knew that I had to warn Aragorn that the uruk-hai were searching for him—that they knew who he was. And I had to fight to get to him. There were uruks all around us," she gestured emphatically. "I had to _do_ _something."_

"How did you discover that the enemy was after Aragorn specifically?"

Lana saw that the wizard was grave-faced. "Thunin told me."

"Thunin of Lórien?" Gandalf asked, his eyes widening in remote surprise.

"Yes; did you know him?" Lana perked.

"Only in passing. He was one of the border guards and served under the March Warden."

Lana looked down at the mention of both Haldir and Thunin. She could still feel the moment of when Thunin's left his body. And Haldir…she hardly knew him, but he had made an impression nonetheless.

"Thunin died in the caves, but not before he told me about the uruk-hai and how they were after Aragorn," she revealed quietly.

Gandalf remained silent. After a moment, Lana inhaled shakily. "I have seen lots of death before, Gandalf—in my old life," she glanced up then down at her hands again. "But I have never witnessed an elf die before…I held his hand…when he…"

She swallowed, as the walls of her throat seemed to collapse making it difficult to speak. She clenched her right hand. The "_invictus"_ tattoo stood out in stark contrast against her pale skin.

Gandalf waited patiently for her to continue.

"I cried after he died. All I could think about was Aragorn, and Legolas, and Gimli—all out there fighting for their lives while I…while I huddled in the caves. Useless… I knew right then that if I wanted to see them again I had to get out there—I had to warn Aragorn. I didn't want him to end up like…like Thunin."

She met the compassionate eyes of the wizard.

"I wasn't thinking about death or failing. I just thought about losing my friends. Warning Aragorn was more important than anything else—even though I was scared out of mind trying to fight those things."

Images of the battle flared up in her mind. She shuddered trying to dislodge them. "I only think I made it as far as I did because I was having such an adrenaline rush. I don't even remember half was what I was doing or how I did it."

Gandalf gave her a fond look. "Regardless, you saved Aragorn's life. He told me that you used the dagger given to you by the Lady of the Wood."

Her lips thinned as she nodded. "Yeah. I used the dagger," her lips quirked at the irony. "The damn thing probably helped save my life. I had dropped my bow and my sword and it was all I had left."

Gandalf smiled sagely. "The Lady of the Wood is wise indeed."

Lana nodded.

"I'm afraid I must leave you now."

Suddenly unhappy with the prospect of being alone again, she snapped her mouth shut. _"Hmm,"_ she grunted. "Enjoy the feast."

Gandalf did not miss the melancholic tone. "Enjoy your peace and quiet while you have it. Mark my words, there will be a wood elf in this very room in a very few short hours."

Lana snorted, but her lips curled into a smile. With how Legolas had been acting, this might be the only peace she would receive over the next few days—or weeks!

Gandalf rose and turned to the doorway, but before leaving he turned back. "Remember what I have told you; trust your heart to find your path."

Her brows knit together slightly, but she nodded. She watched Gandalf leave wondering at his cryptic words. With a sigh, she slid further down in the bed. Once more she listened to the noises from outside until she drifted off.

o0o

Legolas debated if it was entirely appropriate for him to wish to leave so soon after the end of Théoden King's rally. The meal had just begun, but he was not interested in food, although everything smelled delicious.

His only desire was to return to Lana. Surely, she had finished her bath by now. He wished to speak with her before she fell into slumber. He also admitted to himself that he just wanted to see her. The idea of being alone with her stirred those giddy, excited feelings within him. The only thing he was able to liken it to was when he was an elfling heading out on his first hunt.

His heart skipped and his feet felt light. Any delay was a source of frustration. Yes, he was acting very much like an elfling—most unbecoming of an elven prince of his age. But did it matter? He was in love! The thought made his spirit soar and he glanced around to see if anyone noticed. No one seemed to be paying him any heed. Now was his chance.

Inching toward one doorway, he froze and then turned away when he saw Aragorn standing not far from it. He glanced across the room and saw Théoden and his niece speaking in close proximity to his second means of escape. Pivoting around, he discovered a side door that faced east. It was devoid of both Rangers and kings. He started threading through the crowded Hall towards his escape.

He smiled politely to the maidens who giggled and bid him timid greetings; he clasped hands with men he had fought alongside with, all the while moving steadily towards the door. He noticed that it was still early in the night, but most of Edoras' inhabitants seemed to have consumed far too much ale.

"And where do you think you're off to?"

Legolas closed his eyes and nearly groaned aloud. He had been close, so very close. With a sigh, he turned to face Gimli.

o0o

The house was quiet when Legolas entered and he knew that Aragorn was right. Lana would surely be asleep now. It was well that she had not been in attendance at the feast with all that had come to pass. Legolas could still see the image of the Great Eye in his mind, and it caused an unnatural fear in him. It had stirred up the need to protect, and his mind instantly went to Lana. He had to see her, to assure himself that she was well. He shuddered, shaking the memory of the Eye out of his head.

Each day things became more and more complicated. Who would have thought that a trip to Imladris as a messenger for his King would have brought about such an adventure?

The small kitchen was clean, and scents of the evening lingered on the air. Mutton and fresh bread touched his nose. Lana was sure to have eaten well.

Legolas heard them before he saw them. To the left side of the kitchen near the stove, several soldiers lay snoring. With the arrival of so many refugees from the Westfold, every house in Edoras was crammed with bodies.

Legolas stood before the curtain to Lana's room. He paused and listened for a moment. It was difficult to concentrate with the noises of the sleeping men, but he discerned that all was silent in room beyond. Raising his hand, he parted the heavy fabric.

Immediately his eyes noticed the metal basin sitting not far from the doorway. Legolas smiled as the drape swished closed behind him. The scent of roses hung loosely in the air though it was overpowered by the smell of wood burning in the banked fireplace.

Legolas' eyes fell upon the bed and his eyes widened when he realized Lana was not resting in it. The blankets were thrown back as if in haste. Panic seized him, fearing she might have fallen out of the bed and harmed herself until he realized that she was standing by the window.

She was dressed nothing more than a linen shift. Her hair fell in loose waves down her back. The light of the moon illuminated her silhouette through the opaque fabric of the shift. The mortal woman stood completely still. Only her hair and shift moved languorously in the gentle air from the window.

Concern took the place of panic. What was Lana doing out of bed at this late hour? What was she doing out of bed _at all?_

Legolas moved swiftly across the room and stopped just behind her as she turned towards him. He was surprised to see that she had known he was there. Gazing over her he saw that her eyes were red. He surmised that she had been crying, and it caused his heart to ache knowing that he had not been present to comfort her.

"Tell me what has happened," he bid reassuringly.

She sniffed slightly. "I had a nightmare."

Legolas frowned, his expression just visible in the dim light from the fireplace. Instantly he closed the distance between them even as she reached for him. His arms circled her like one who cradles a fragile kitten.

"You have dreamt not in some time."

She inhaled his scent. "I know…"

_"Man ceritha le ôl ned?" What did you dream of?_

She pressed her ear to his chest listening intently to his steadily beating heart. Lana closed her eyes as he rubbed his thumb along her neck under her hair.

"You…"

Legolas frowned and became still. Then he pulled back to look at her face. "You had a nightmare about me?" Horror filled him at the thought. "Did I hurt you?"

She looked up and shook her head. "I didn't mean it like that. I dreamt that you…_died."_

"Oh, _Melethril_…" Legolas stroked the side of her face, and Lana rolled her cheek into the palm of his hand.

"I dreamt that it was you who had died in the caves and not…Thunin."

"Thunin?" He blinked at the name. Unexpectedly a strange and bitter emotion shot through him as he wondered just who this other _ellon_ was.

"He was an injured elf who died in the caves…he died right—right in front of me. I held his hand, and…" she squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed.

She opened her eyes and peered earnestly into Legolas'. "I was afraid it was you at first." She placed her hands on his chest. Her fingers rubbed the fabric of his tunic lightly as if to reassure herself that he was, in fact real.

"I had the dream and it was you in my dream, and not Thunin. And then when I awakened and you weren't here…"

Her voice broke and she was unable to continue. She shivered, in part due to the chill coming in from the window and because of the freezing fear she had felt when she awakened alone.

Legolas dropped his hand from her face and with both hands, he rubbed her arms gently in an attempt to keep her warm.

_"Goheno nin._ I came as quickly as I could." He could only image her terror upon finding him missing. It must have compared to how he felt when Aragorn had told him that Lana had been hurt.

_"Istan."_ She paused and her gaze lingered on his face. "How was the feast?" She asked toying with the ends of his now clean hair.

"Forget the feast. Your dream—"

"Was absolutely horrific and I don't want to even think about it." She interrupted shaking her head tersely. "I want to forget it. You're alive and here, that's all that matters."

Her fingers traced the silver whorls on his suede tunic. Legolas suppressed the frisson of delight caused by that simple touch. Even though it was through the thick layers of clothing he wore, her touch evoked a heat in his chest that spread throughout his body like dye in water.

"How did you know I was behind you? I made not a sound."

She shrugged nonchalantly. "I saw your shadow on the wall and your reflection on the glass."

Legolas nodded, feeling foolish for underestimating her senses. "Before I tell you anything, I wish to know why you are up. How are you out of bed?"

She smirked lightly at him. "I have two legs," she reminded him dryly.

"Aye, you do," Legolas replied though he felt it was a shame they were covered up by the linen shift she wore. The thought surprised him and he unconsciously shifted his weight.

"I felt better after my bath and when Ammora left me to go to the feast I stood by the window. I listened to the music and sounds for a while, and when I started feeling tired, I went to sleep. Then I had the dream and I couldn't stay in bed. I had to get up and breathe some fresh air."

"How is your injury?" Legolas very lightly ran his fingers over her side. He felt the thick bandage beneath the linen. "It must pain you."

"It's better," her lips twisted a half smirk then. "Still hurts like hell—especially if I move too quickly, but it's somewhat bearable now, unlike before."

_"Maer."_

They fell silent for several moments. Lana then turned to close the window and latch it. Legolas came up behind her and enveloped her within his arms. He rested his chin on her shoulder and breathed in her scent. She smelled of stew and firewood. They combined with that delicious spicy-floral scent that was always with her, tantalizing his nose. He sighed, content at last. All night he had desired to hold her like this, and at last, the Valar granted his wish.

Lana clasped her hands over his, which rested on her stomach. His warm breath tickled her face and neck making her smile, and his embrace left her feeling safe and secure. Two things she very much needed. She leaned back into him reveling the feeling he gave her.

Unfortunately, the moment was short-lived as Lana spun around in disbelief to face the elf. The action hurt her wound, but she hid her pain.

"You've been drinking! Your breath smells like ale!" She exclaimed, startled by her discovery. She had never seen him drink before and was a bit surprised that she could actually _smell_ the alcohol on his breath.

Legolas stroked her hair behind her ear and spoke soothingly. "Worry not. I did not consume enough to compromise my senses. I did not plan to drink at all. It was entirely Gimli's fault."

"Gimli?" She asked lifting a brow.

_Promise me that you'll help Legolas enjoy the feast Gimli…he seriously needs to chill out._

Her lips suddenly curled in amusement. "What happened?"

"He challenged me to a drinking game and he lost." Legolas sounded almost boastful.

Lana's eyes widened in disbelief. "You and Gimli played a _drinking_ game?"

"Aye, with several men of the Rohirrim. It is a very good thing that elves are not so easily affected by wine or ale. Although," he became thoughtful. "Mannish drinks are not very strong."

Lana blinked, not believing what she was hearing. Sweet, innocent Legolas had participated in a_ drinking _game with Gimli and some rowdy men. She just couldn't picture it.

She started laughing. "Well damn. I'm sorry to have missed that. Exactly how much did you have to drink to beat them?"

"I had twelve pints, and it was all well that it ended at twelve because my fingers were just beginning to tingle."

Her jaw dropped. "You drank _twelve_ pints of ale?"

Legolas nodded grinning with something akin to pride. Lana shook her head, amazed.

"That is an incredible amount of liquid." Then forgetting for a moment who exactly it was she was speaking to, she blurted, "You must have had piss like a racehorse!" Her eyes widened as soon as the words escaped her mouth.

"Piss?" Legolas asked in candid confusion.

"Eh, you know…" Lana felt her face warm. She knew her face must be turning beet red. At Legolas' blank expression, she continued, feeling her blush growing darker by the second. "Uh…wee…Mother Nature's call?"

Legolas continued to play dumb, all the while enjoying the lovely color that spread over her cheeks.

"If you don't know what I'm talking about then I'm going to let this drop."

Legolas chuckled softly and pulled her against him, breathing in the smoky fragrance of her hair.

"I know of what you speak, _Melethril_._"_ His smile broadened. "The color on your cheeks suits you."

Lana gasped and then promptly smacked his shoulder. "You ass! I can't believe you! Letting me go on like that!"

Legolas laughed again. The carefree sound made her breath catch in appreciation. Crossing her arms and rolling her eyes at him, she attempted to compose herself.

"So, what happened after this drinking game and you pissing like a horse?"

Legolas chuckled again, reaching for her once more. He ran his hands over her shoulders and settled them down on her hips. His body tingled from her nearness.

"Gimli fell asleep mumbling incoherently about dwarves swimming with hairy women. Some of the men who were still somewhat sober carried him to a room so that he could sleep off his ale. I went to clear my head by gazing at the stars…and then things happened that I did not expect."

Lana didn't miss the way Legolas' playfulness faded away only to be replaced with a grim face.

"What happened?"

"The hour grows late. You need to rest," he told trying to divert her interest.

"I want to know what happened that you didn't expect," she protested as he tried to turn her towards the bed. "Oh, no. You have to tell me what happened!" She said sidestepping him. "You can't say something _un_expected happened and then not tell me what it was. That's just cruel."

Legolas sighed, knowing that she was right, but wishing she would let well enough alone. "Pippin gazed into the Palantir and put himself in great danger."

"Palantir?" Lana tilted her head with a frown.

"A seeing-stone. Pippin found the stone at Isengard. Gandalf took it and hid it from the hobbit. But Pippin's curiosity got the better of him. He took it from Gandalf and looked into it."

Lana shook her head not understanding. "What's so dangerous about that? It's just a rock, right?"

"You misunderstand, _Melethril_. This is no mere stone. It was made in ages long past as a way for distant kingdoms to communicate. One who gazes into the stone will see a light that expands and becomes like a window if you will." He explained.

"They were created by the Noldorians in the First Age. They were brought to Middle Earth and eventually were gifted to the Nùmenorean exiles. Most have disappeared—either lost or stolen by the enemies of the Dúnedain. Sauron has one of the Palantirs, and Saruman had another. The Dark Lord can see any who gaze into a Palantir unless it is concealed."

Lana frowned further. "So what you're telling me is that the creepy bodiless evil eye who wants the Ring could see Pippin because he looked into a crystal ball?"

"Aye. Pippin is fortunate that Aragorn and myself arrived and Gandalf was present. It is still unknown what Sauron learned from the hobbit—if anything. But Gandalf bid us rest while he examines Pippin. We will know more on the morrow."

Lana wasn't entirely sure what all this meant, but she knew she would find out. "Is Pippin ok?"

Legolas nodded. "He was frightened. But unharmed."

"Sounds like you had an interesting night," she remarked with lifted brows.

"Indeed. And the dawn will come on swift wings. You must rest." The elf said again seeing the tired look in Lana's eyes.

"Will you stay with me?" She asked hopefully, not even considering propriety.

Neither was Legolas for he swiftly replied. "Certainly."

She smiled and he helped her walk back to the bed, his arm across her back for support. He was tempted to brush his fingers down her side to feel her curves but resisted. It would be inappropriate, not to mention she was still healing. Gently he rearranged the covers and then helped her into the bed.

He tried not to swallow loudly as the firelight danced over thin linen shift. While the nightgown did nothing to show off the shape of her body, the mere fact that she wore next to nothing as she slipped into the bed made his mouth go dry.

His eyes lingered over her movements as she drew her legs over the mattress and pulled the blankets up. He sat on the stool beside her bed.

"There's plenty of room," she told him, glancing at the space beside her.

Legolas swallowed. "I do not know if it is wise, _Melethril_. I might hurt you unintentionally."

Lana gave him a dry look. "You need to sleep."

"I will sleep here," he told her gesturing to the stool.

"No."

Legolas blinked. Lana's tone was firm and snapped with authority. He gazed at her and knew that he could not deny her, just as he could no longer deny that he desired to do what she asked. The thought of her falling asleep in his arms greatly appealed to him—especially after such a long evening. Besides, he was already breaking social custom by staying alone in her bedchamber. Why not go further?

His answer was to begin unbuckling his quiver. He felt her eyes upon him as he removed his weapons. He laid his quiver against the small table near the bed, careful to not spill the arrows. Then he leaned his Lórien bow beside it.

Next he removed his Lórien cloak and draped it over the stool. He discarded his boots, his fingers fumbling with the laces more than once. After displacing his vambraces, he slowly began to release the ties beneath his arms that held his suede tunic. This simple task of readying himself for bed felt far more intimate than he would have expected.

He wondered if Lana could feel the tension as he did. He slid his outer tunic over his head revealing the silvery-blue silk shirt he wore beneath. It was the same shirt Lana had seen him wear in Lothlórien during their first night; the same shirt that was ripped on the bottom from when he tore it to bind her hand.

She silently watched him blow out the few lit candles, and belatedly wondered if it had been entirely appropriate for her to ask him to join her in bed. While she knew that they were just friends, this world had a much stricter sense of propriety. But she reminded herself that they were just going to sleep. Besides, he had held her out on the plains of Rohan and they had shared a bed in the Hall. The only difference this time was that they were alone.

Legolas fed the fire and turned towards her. A feeling of tension combined with giddiness filled Lana's body. She scooted over leaving room for him. The bed barely seemed to shift under the elf's weight as he settled on top of it.

Legolas lay on the opposite side of the bed. For a few moments, the room was quiet except for the popping hiss of the fire. Beyond the room, the mortal men snored.

He broke the silence between them. "May I ask you something?"

"Mmm-hmm,"

"What do you desire for the future?"

The question took Lana off guard as did the feeling of Legolas' fingers brushing back some of her hair. The pads of his fingers were warm against her face.

"Um, well…that the war would be over and the Ring destroyed, I guess."

"We all desire that. What do you desire for yourself?"

She shifted slightly and turned her face toward him. He was a lot closer to her than she realized and her heart skipped. His eyes seemed to glow in the dim light from the fire. She held his gaze considering his question.

"I suppose, well, I suppose I want what most people want—a home, family...a purpose. It would be nice to fall in love with the right person and maybe get married. Perhaps have children one day…"

Legolas smiled affectionately. Anticipation and joy filled his soul so fully that he feared he would not be able to contain it all.

Lana lifted her right hand, the backs of her fingers daring to lightly touch his chin and jaw. "What do you want for the future, Aureos?" She asked softly.

He smiled lovingly, and took her trailing fingers and brought them to his lips. His smile grew as she inhaled at his touch.

"Much the same, Cairnmel. Much the same."

A short time later, still hours before the sun had yet to rise, an otherworldly woman rested comfortably in the arms of an elven prince.

o0o

Lana could not remember a night when she had slept so soundly. No nightmares plagued her, and as she awakened slowly from her sleep she was aware of a warm body behind her. An arm was slung over her middle, carefully placed so as not to lie on top of her injury. The fingers of a large graceful hand were curled under her hip. Her body tingled with pleasant sensations.

Lana smiled, imaging that Legolas was most likely already awake and watching over her. For a moment, she allowed herself to dream that things were different between them. Savoring the thought, she sighed and let it go.

Opening her eyes, she squinted at the morning light that poured in through the windows. The sun had not yet broken over the horizon, but it was brighter in the room than it had been during the night.

Carefully she rolled over onto her back. Glancing at Legolas, she saw that his eyes were open, but hooded. He was staring intently towards her and she smiled.

"Good morning," she murmured sleepily.

He did not answer. In fact, he didn't even move. It was like he hadn't heard her. Frowning she sat up slowly. Legolas still didn't move. Knitting her brows she cocked her head.

"Legolas?"

Again no response. She wondered if he was playing a joke on her as he had last night. She waved her hand in front of his eyes.

"Hello, earth to Legolas," she said, her heart starting to pound. "Planet Earth calling Major Tom," she tried teasingly though her breath started to leave her.

He didn't even blink.

"Legolas?" She asked again, louder this time.

She put a hand on his shoulder. Nothing. Not even a flutter of an eyelash. Tears sprang into her eyes. She inhaled a silent sob as her greatest fear manifested in front of her. He looked dead to the world and her nightmare came rushing back in full reality.

"Legolas!" She cried out shaking his arm roughly.

The elf sprang up without warning, reaching for his weapons only to find that they were not beside him. Lana gasped and tumbled backward, nearly falling off the bed. Legolas quickly snatched her before she hit the floor.

"What is it? What is wrong?" He asked in fear, his hazy gaze darting everywhere.

Lana sat on the opposite edge of the bed, trembling violently. "You weren't moving—you weren't answering. I thought you were…" her voice trembled. She wrapped her arms around herself and stared at him in abject shock.

Legolas sighed, instantly recognizing the problem. "I was _sleeping."_

"Sleeping?" She echoed in disbelief. "No, you weren't. Your eyes were open and you were just staring off into nothing. You weren't blinking or moving or—"

Despite the situation, Legolas began chuckling.

"I fail to see what's so funny about this," she told him stiffly and sniffed.

"Elves sleep with their eyes open."

_"What?_ That's the craziest shit I've ever heard."

Legolas could tell she did not believe him. He reached for her hands and held them comfortingly.

"I speak the truth. Elves very often sleep with their eyes open—particularly in wartime. In normal situations, we awaken quickly with awareness as to what is happening around us."

He rubbed the back of his neck, then looking a bit sheepish said, "Apparently the ale affected more than I first believed. I slept more soundly than is normal for me."

Lana stared at him. Then she realized that she had never actually _seen_ him sleep before, and she knew that he didn't lie. So, he had to be telling the truth.

"Shit, Legolas. You scared me half to death."

_"Goheno nin."_ He rubbed her arms soothingly.

"I've never seen an elf sleep before," Lana continued moving off the bed as she tried to compose herself.

She must have looked like an idiot. Feeling incredibly self-conscious she ran a hand through her hair.

"For one who has never seen an elf sleep it may very well appear that we are dead," Legolas attempted to comfort her.

He swung his long legs out of the bed and rose to his feet. Moving forward, he pulled Lana into his arms. He hated to see her upset and he disliked the fact that he had caused her discomfort. The back of his fingers skimmed across her cheek and then buried in her hair.

_"Goheno nin, Melethril."_

She pulled away a little, still feeling ridiculous, and confused. She was also wondering what had gotten into him because he seemed…_different_. His over attentive tactile behavior continued on from yesterday. Her brows knit together causing lines to appear on her forehead.

"Why do you keep calling me that?"

_"Man?" What?_

_"Melethril._ 'Beloved'…you called me that all last night and now this morning. Is it a new nickname?"

Legolas moved his fingers through her golden hair and watched as she stared up at him. He could see the questions in her eyes.

"It is much more than a nickname," he murmured with soft passion.

The sun crept over the horizon signaling a new day, and Legolas made a decision. The elven prince studied the mortal woman before him. Her eyes were still searching his while his fingers combed through her hair. The cuts on her face were healing, as was the arrow injury on her side. He had nearly lost her. It took virtually all his will power to keep from trembling at the thought.

"Is it not obvious?" Legolas said, unable to control his own voice.

His words were low and filled with desire. Could she not see what others around them had seen and he had not? Was she also blind to the force that drew them together?"

He watched her as she blinked in puzzlement. Legolas felt his pulse quicken to a speed he thought was impossible. He glanced down at the minute space between their bodies. Then he gazed into Lana's face, his eyes shining brightly like the sun on the horizon.

_"Gerich gûr nín." _

_You have my heart._

Lana blinked rapidly, staring into his eyes. They were glazed with that unknown emotion that her heart knew, but her mind refused to understand. It was both thrilling and frightening. Lana felt her heartbeat quicken. She sensed his hand on her face, his fingers smoothing over her skin. His blue eyes bore into hers.

_"Gerich meleth nín." _

_You have my love._

Lana's lips parted in shock at the words and Legolas took the action as an invitation. His eyes slipped closed as he leaned down and forward. At the urging of his heart, he brushed his lips hesitantly over hers in a light tentative kiss.

Involuntarily, Lana's eyes fluttered closed and all rational thought fled her as his warm mouth fitted over her own. One of his arms circled her body and pulled her gently toward him, effectively closing the gap between them. That hand lingered on her waist while the other cupped her face.

Everything around them was lost. All they knew was the warmth of their bodies against each other and the hazy desire that invaded their minds, urging them on. In an instant, the tie between them strengthened into something nigh unbreakable.

Lana kissed Legolas back. She was timid at first as if she had never kissed anyone before. But soon her instincts took over and she began pressing firmly against him. His mouth was warm and inviting and years of suppressed feminine sensuality percolated through her blood in fizzy little bubbles.

The hand on her waist slid up her back as Legolas molded her body to his. His fingers created slow circles over the soft linen of her sleeping gown as she consumed his every sense.

Feeling his warm hand through the thin fabric, Lana inhaled and intuitively pressed harder against the elf's mouth. She licked his lips sensuously, daring him to open to her.

The touch of her tongue excited him, and Legolas tilted his head and parted his lips to embrace her more deeply. Their tongues touched shyly then with more courage. Lana slid her hands up his chest, her fingers rubbing the soft silky material.

New emotions rushed like liquid fire through Legolas' body. In response, he took her lower lip into his mouth and gently sucked it. Lana clenched her teeth together to keep from moaning out loud at the sudden raw explosion of fiery desire that suffused her body. Between her legs, a familiar heat pooled as her innermost places throbbed desirously.

She curled one hand behind his neck while the other brushed back his hair that had fallen forward behind his ear. Forgetting how sensitive the finely pointed tip was, she slightly traced the flesh with repeated feather-light touches.

Legolas' response was immediate.

* * *

_Well then. We made it. What next?_

_As always thanks for reading!_


	37. Lost At Sea

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story. **

I make no claim to Tolkien's works_._ I also give credit to Cormak3032.

* * *

**Chapter 36: Lost At Sea**

A deep masculine moan of pleasure filled Lana's mouth. Her eyes flew open at the sound, and her hands stilled within the fine silky hair. For a long moment she froze. A warm eager mouth was pressed against hers and someone was holding her tightly to them.

Lana forgot where she was and whom she was with until she saw the pale blonde hair, and the scent and feel of someone familiar filled her. She broke the embrace with a gasp and took a staggering step back.

Her head swam with uncertainty and disbelief at the fact that it was indeed Legolas who stood before her. The elf's face was flushed, and his lips were swollen from their kiss. His blonde hair was disheveled on one side of his head due to her probing fingers. He was breathing heavily through parted lips just as she was.

Legolas exhaled loudly, and attempted to restrain his galloping heart. Surprised by her hasty break of their embrace a flood of confusion and unexpected doubt fill his mind. He gazed deeply into Lana's eyes, hoping to catch a glimpse of what she was feeling. But she turned away from him, suddenly unable to look him in the eyes. Legolas felt his heart drop; worry gnawed on him.

Lana quickly clamped her eyes shut and ran through the events that had just taken place. They entered her mind backwards, starting from when they broke their kiss to when Legolas had first spoken to her. Her brows drew together as she recalled his words.

There was no way…she must have misunderstood him…she must be misinterpreting his words…

Opening her eyes, she was certain she would be back in bed with Legolas sleeping beside her. But she was not in bed. And Legolas stood before her trying to slow his rushed breathing. They had kissed. _No_—_he_ had kissed_ her_. And she stroked his ears!

"Wha—what did you say to me? Before we…kissed?" She murmured timidly.

She had to have misheard him. Her heart thundered like a runaway train in her chest. Her lips still tingled from Legolas enthusiastic kiss, and a deep ache settled in her soul.

_"Gerich gûr nín. Gerich meleth nín."_ Legolas repeated immediately with much emotion._ You have my heart. You have my love._

His eyes bore into hers; seeking answers she was not speaking.

Thoughts whirled chaotically like a hurricane. _You have my love—does that mean the same thing as…?_ It couldn't! Yet the expression on Legolas' face was unmistakable now. She saw the look in his eyes clearly.

The revelation hit her hard in the gut and for a moment she stopped breathing. Legolas was not telling her she had his love as a friend but the love of so much more!

"Holy Theodore-fucking-Roosevelt," she breathed, absolutely stunned. "You're serious, aren't you?" She gasped.

They weren't words she had meant to speak aloud, and guilt slapped her hard in the face when Legolas gave her a pained look. He had never lied to her, why would he start now?

Legolas continued to watch her cautiously, his eyes not leaving her form. "Quite serious."

It took every iota of his will power to keep from trembling with need…and fear. The Mirkwood elf watched her with something akin to desperation. His soul cried out in sudden alarm. And his heart, which had been so suddenly and so quickly awakened, was in many ways still tender and fragile. He had never loved before—never felt its power. Nor had he experienced its rejection.

And the frightened look on his beloved's face caused him to fear in ways he never knew existed. All he wanted to do was take her into his arms and soothe that expression away, but Lana was as skittish as a doe in the forest.

She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. Did he expect a declaration of love in return? Had he really just told her that he _loved_ her? This was just impossible!

"You do not believe me." The passion drained from Legolas' eyes. Hurt and distress took its place.

Lana quickly shook her head. "No—no, I didn't say that,"

"You do not have to." The elf's smooth voice was flat and for the first time since she had broken their kiss, Legolas looked away.

Without thinking, Lana reached for his face and positioned it so she could look into his eyes. Gloom was prominent all over his features as was disappointment.

And he _did_ feel disappointed—with her, and with himself. His rational mind was quick to reassert itself and take stock of the situation. He had been naïve enough to believe that once he told her how he felt, once he _kissed her,_ that she would embrace him and tell him the same.

He had been so sure of everything! And now he felt like a foolish and gullible elfling.

"I do believe you…I…" Lana paused trying to figure out how to make him understand how she felt while trying to discover that for herself at the same time.

This was surreal. Warrior Legolas who knew so much about weapons and fighting, but who was so innocent with love, had just professed _his love_ for _her_. Lana couldn't fathom it, no matter how many times she heard him repeat the words in her mind.

"It's hard for me to believe this is possible. That you would lo—feel so strongly…about _me."_

Mentally she kicked herself. She couldn't even bring herself to say the word "love," and she could hardly think it either. She lowered her hand from his face and looked away—hating herself for it. She was a coward. And no amount of blaming her past made her feel better about it.

She was a broken creature. When it came to such heady matters of the heart she seemed to fail spectacularly each time. Even before Afghanistan she had been quite bad when it came to talking about her own deep emotions. She was so petrified of having her heart broken. She recalled how her parents divorced and it affected her in ways she rarely saw or even understood. She saw what love or at least its souring could do.

It had left her parents damaged…tainted. It took years for them to heal on their own. And Aidan and she had suffered with them. Who would want a broken family? Common as it was, it still hurt—like a burn wound. So Lana vowed to never let that happen to her. She wasn't dismissive of the idea of marriage or relationships but she grew overly cautious. It got to the point that she never allowed herself to feel too much with any of her past lovers. She always kept part of herself back—just in case.

Perhaps that's why they all had left her in the end?

She swallowed hard. This situation with Legolas was a frightening concept to her. After Afghanistan and the betrayal of Eric, she was not sure she could fully love anyone; her heart was too damaged. _She_ was too damaged.

Yet after meeting Legolas, she realized that she longed for someone like him to love her. She desired a person who was genuinely kind and loving and did not put on an act. Some selfish part of her had wanted Legolas to love her. But she had given into the belief that he would never—could never—love her.

Yet against all odds, Legolas _had_ grown to love her and now she didn't know what to do about it. Her insides felt like a ball of yarn—twisted, knotted—but unraveling feverishly by the second.

"Why is it not possible for me to feel strongly for you?" The elf's words were soft, but they startled Lana from her thoughts as if they had been shouted.

His lips were pressed together in a thin line and his brows were lowered over pain filled eyes. Injury was radiating from him, and it burned her.

She opened her mouth but it was a moment before she was able to speak. "Well…" she gestured at herself looking down. "The obvious…"

Legolas' brows rose above his eyes, and he immediately understood. "Because you are mortal and I am elf-kind." He supplied.

"No…yes…I don't know." She turned away from him and ran a hand through her hair.

Legolas felt the urge to reach out and comfort her, but he feared that at this point his touch might drive her away. When she slowly turned back around to face him, Legolas saw the honest confusion in her eyes, as well as trepidation.

He realized he should have expected this. Lana had been in love in the past, and had been betrayed. She had also experienced the worst side of men. Although he was no man, it was callow of him to think that she would jump into his waiting arms.

And if he was honest, he too had been confused about his own feelings towards her. He had fought inwardly about what he should do; with what his father and his people would say; but Legolas had only to look at Lana and he knew what path to take.

"Mortal or immortal, you are female, and I am male," he explained simply. Cautiously he cupped a hand on each of her shoulders.

Lana couldn't stop the tremble that raced through her at his touch. She felt the heat of his hands through the thin linen of her sleeping gown, and the memory of him against her as they kissed rushed into her mind. While the fire in her body had been dampened but it was not entirely gone; much to her consternation.

Legolas frowned at her reaction, but he did not remove his hands since she did not pull away. He rubbed his thumbs over her shoulders trying to instill comfort.

"The heart knows nothing of one's life span in relation to another. It knows nothing of race or time. Love has no boundaries," he attempted to reason.

Lana swallowed hard, her throat was now terribly dry. His words washed over her but she did not drink them in.

"That might be true, but how can _you_ love _me?"_ She quivered as the words left her lips.

Legolas frowned deeply. "I understand not what you are saying."

Lana exhaled acutely. "You are nearly three thousand years old. You told me that you've never loved a woman. Everything you've said and done has pointed to these facts: that you _couldn't_ be in love…or, at the very least, that it couldn't be with…me." Her voice became very small.

She swallowed thickly trying to dislodge the large lump in her throat. "I don't understand how you can say this to me after all that. And besides—you hardly _know_ me. You don't know my favorite color or food. You don't know what drives me crazy or my weird quirks. You don't even know the names of my…of my parents." Her voice cracked.

Legolas stepped closer and placed his palm over Lana's rapidly beating heart. She blinked at the action. Her skin tingled from the feel of his warm hand resting just above her breasts. Unconsciously she tensed.

"I know what is in here," murmured confidently. He gazed down at his hand over her heart, and then slowly back into her eyes. "The remainder I can learn with time. I know that you are kind and sensitive. I know that you love and hurt easily. That you are brave and willing to fight for those you love—even when you have been ordered otherwise."

Lana's lip trembled as a wayward smile touched the corners of her lips.

"You are clever and have wisdom that extends farther than your years. You yearn for the truth and seek what is good and righteous. You make me laugh. And you make me feel things that no one else has made me feel."

Legolas tilted his head to the side, gazing deeply into her dark blue eyes.

"How can I not love you? You are beautiful on the inside as well as the outside. You are everything I could have hoped for in a woman."

Lana released a shaky breath. These were words that she had so longed to hear, and never dared to hope for. But instead of feeling joyful she felt as if she were going to break apart. She tried to find some composure but it escaped her. He was breaking her—just like all those before him. Yet Legolas was doing it in an entirely different way.

"You seem to be still overlooking something really important, Legolas. I am not elvish." She murmured thickly.

"I have not forgotten." He replied quickly to reassure her. "You are mortal, and I know that one day…I will lose you." Pain engulfed the elf so strongly that he gripped her sleeping gown in an attempt to anchor himself. "But that does _not change_ how I feel." He told her firmly. His voice was low and strangled with unfathomable emotion.

"But you're a prince; you could have any elf you wanted." She reminded him.

Legolas shook his head, moving his thumb over Lana's racing heart. The frantic beating matched his own. "I have lived among elves my entire life and never I felt anything more than deep friendship for any _elleth_ that I knew. I love not an _elleth_, nor do I desire to. I love _you."_

Lana inhaled sharply. It was the first time he had told her he loved her in the Common Tongue. She lowered her head as unbidden tears dripped from her eyes. They fell on Legolas' hand that still clutched her shift.

He felt his heart constrict and it began to crack and splinter as Lana fell apart before his eyes. He realized suddenly that she was not ready for this. She had been through so much pain in the past as well as these last several days.

He released his grip on her clothing and pulled his hand away. This caused Lana to look up at him. Her lips were trembling, and tears trailed down her face. The elf could sense the apprehension and thick confusion around her.

"I have frightened you," he murmured regretfully.

Legolas took a deep breath and exhaled shakily. Then, taking her hand, he placed it over his chest, pressing her palm against the silk of his shirt so she could feel how hard his heart was pounding. Her eyes widened at the feel of it.

"I am afraid as well, _Melethril," _he informed her.

His eyes met hers and she froze. That strange emotion was present again in his luminous blue eyes, and she felt it all around her—only this time she recognized it. He positively glowed with his love for her.

"This is all new to me, but I embrace it fully because I trust what my heart tells me," he told her honestly.

Lana lowered her gaze. She felt his heart beating fast and steady beneath her palm. She realized then that it must have been difficult for him to tell her how he felt. Leaving aside that she was not from Middle Earth, she knew that by loving her he was breaching strict racial boundaries.

"You need time," Legolas told her softly. She looked up as he continued. "To understand what you may…or may not feel." Legolas bowed his head. "To sort through what I have wrongly thrust upon you in such a difficult time."

Lana's eyes widened. He was about to speak further but she quickly cut him off. "No—I'm glad you told me. Don't go beating yourself up for telling me the truth. I wouldn't want you to keep this in. It could have done more harm than good. And…I…I'm sorry too—for how I reacted."

She bowed her head when she felt herself blush at the memory of their kiss. "Pulling away like I did…I wasn't expecting that…to…happen." She grimaced, embarrassed.

He smiled softly and tucked a stray whip of hair behind her ear. For the most part she had reacted how he hoped she would. She had responded to his kiss—quite ardently in fact—and this gave him hope. He realized it was a foolish hope, but it could not be helped.

Lana sighed deeply and chanced to look up at him. He was waiting patiently for the next moments of time to unravel before him, and silently she cursed him for looking so beautiful and perfect. He still wore the silvery blue shirt he had worn to bed, and the fine elven fabric nearly glittered in the sunlight that streamed through the window.

His hair, half up, was messy because of her wandering hands, but that did not stop her from believing he was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. She had never described a man as beautiful before, yet it fit Legolas. And then she recalled that he was not a man. He was an elf with flawless elven beauty.

She cleared her throat. "I do need some time, because a lot has happened, and my mind isn't clear." She admitted softly. "But I don't want you to think that I don't care about you, because I _do."_ She nervously twirled her loose hair around her fingers.

_"Henian." I understand_.

She smiled but it was forced. _"Maer."_

"I will leave you to your thoughts. Send for me when you desire to speak," he bid her softly.

She nodded and Legolas withdrew his hand from her hair. He gazed at her for a long moment as if etching her in his mind, and then he stepped away. Reaching for his outer tunic on the stool he tugged it over his head. His fingers laced the sides with expert accuracy. He slipped his feet into his boots efficiently. Then he buckled his belt at his waist and fastened his quiver strap across his chest.

Lana stood nearly motionless watching him dress. A lump formed in her throat as she stood idly by. A new feeling engulfed her. It was the lonely horrible feeling of a breakup with someone infinitely dear and beloved but with the knowledge that it could never work out. Then being forced to watch them pack their things and leave your life—while there was nothing that you could do to stop them.

The world continued to turn no matter how much you willed it to remain still.

Of course this was no break up, and there was no reason to feel this way. Legolas was giving her the time and space to think about how she felt, but she couldn't shake this feeling. Part of her wanted to dash to him and pull him into her arms and beg his forgiveness. It was an overwhelming sensation that she didn't understand, but she itched to do something—anything to alleviate it.

However she would not let herself go to him and she remained rooted to the floor. It was incredibly bittersweet.

Legolas turned to leave the room, but unexpectedly a hand caught his. He stilled and turned to face Lana. He could only describe the look on her sweet face as lost and he could not help but believe she felt this way because of him.

Lana slowly stepped forward and her hand reached up to brush back the hair she had mussed on the side of his head. The elf's eyes closed at the innocent torture.

Lana warred with her thoughts and feelings. Her heart screaming at her to not let him go, but her mind knew that she could never figure out her true feelings unless she had some time to herself.

His eyes opened slowly and he smiled in an attempt to comfort her. He squeezed her hand gently.

"No matter what decision you make, know that I will always be here for you and I…I will always…love you,"

His voice broke uncharacteristically as he finished his sentence. He released Lana's hand quickly. He saw her lips part and the kiss came rushing back to him as gazed at her open mouth. A frightening warmth stirred within him, as did that new terror that he had never expected.

Quickly he turned to the doorway, his boots barely making a sound as he went. The Mirkwood elf turned to the mortal woman once more to cast a lingering glance, and then he stepped from the room, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

Lana did not move until the sound of the front door opening and then closing reached her ears. Then suddenly, as if she was a marionette with its strings cut, she sat unceremoniously on the edge of the bed. The feather mattress and wooden bed frame grunted in disapproval, but she didn't hear it.

"Oh, holy fucking shit," she breathed.

* * *

_The muse loves reviews!_

_As always, thanks for reading!_


	38. Study of the Heart

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story. **

I make no claim to Tolkien's works_._ I also give credit to Cormak3032.

Note: There is some Italian in this chapter. I am in no way fluent in Italian. I barely remember anything remotely useful from my Italian class seven years ago. So forgive me if it's terrible. In fact, if you speak Italian and have corrections for me, do let me know! I strive to write grammatically correct in any language.

* * *

**Chapter 37: Study of the Heart**

Lana sat there in stunned shock unable to fathom all that just happened within the last few minutes.

Legolas loved her!

The damn elf admitted his love and practically left his heart unprotected in her hands. And it was up to her to decide its fate. He played his card and it was her turn now; and she felt an overwhelming urge to stop playing. But one cannot stop playing the game of life and love, she mused fatalistically.

One wrong move on her part could shatter her brave warrior knight into a thousand tiny pieces. And those shards would be sharp enough to cut her right through. She was afraid—deathly afraid of making the wrong decision.

She lowered her head into her hands and moaned. So many thoughts whirled through her head. What should she do? She didn't want to hurt him. But what was right for her? She didn't want to hurt herself either by doing the wrong thing. What was the right decision?

It was impossible to think clearly when everything in the room reminded her of him. His scent lingered on the air. He had sat on that stool. That table had braced his quiver. The sheets were rumpled and she could see the indentation of where he had slept.

Standing quickly, she ran shaking hands through her hair. The bed seemed to still retain the heat from his body. He had lain with her that night as a complete gentleman and kept his love for her a secret until morning. It must have been difficult for him to be so close to her without her knowing his heart of hearts.

Lana began to pace as the heated kiss entered her mind; those soft lips, the sweet taste of him that was like forbidden honey. And that warm leanly muscled body pressed against hers as he drew her closer.

She bit her fingers remembering how Legolas had taken the initiative and that her body responded without question. It had almost felt like, well, like they had always been together in this way—and yet it was thrilling and dizzying as all first kisses were.

She had to get out of this room. Now. Swiftly she dressed, blindly choosing one of the dresses Éowyn had gifted to her. With trembling fingers and much cursing, she managed to braid her hair and then pinned it up on her crown. She wanted it up and out of the way.

Quickly and quietly she slipped from the house. Her destination was unknown, but she headed away from the Golden Hall down a dusty side street.

At the moment, her body wanted to do the thinking and she knew that was dangerous. In fact, if her mind had not intervened when it had, who knew how far she and Legolas might have gone? Then she realized they might not have proceeded anywhere at all since elves did not take sex lightly.

But Legolas claimed he loved her; and this could change things drastically. How far would she have allowed things to go? How far would Legolas have let them go? She would never know now.

The dry dirt crunched under her rapid footfalls. She knew that she needed to be fair to herself and to him by thinking through all this methodically. She wrapped her arms around her middle cursing her own stupidity of leaving her cloak behind. The morning was crisp but at least the wind hadn't picked up yet. She continued following the back alleyways not wanting to meet anyone as they rose for their day. Her fingers tightened on her arms as she hugged herself.

She was certain that she loved Legolas as a friend, and most likely more than that—but just how much? And once she decided how she felt how would their relationship change? Would it change for the better or worse? Sometimes the best of friends could make the worst partners.

The indiscriminate Unknown grinned mockingly at her. How she hated it! There were enough unknowns in life without this nasty one leering at her. She felt extremely jittery and suddenly rather lightheaded. Ahead of her was a fenced area and she quickly leaned against the rough wood sucking in the cold air.

"Lana are you well?"

She blinked and looked over her shoulder to see Éowyn standing only a few yards away. The Shield Maiden was dressed in a simple riding habit and a long dark brown coat with a fur collar that looked tantalizingly warm. The woman's flaxen hair was braided neatly down her back.

Lana gave her a weak smile and a good morning. Éowyn regarded her with those shrewd eyes of hers. "You look unwell. Are you certain you should be out of bed? You are still healing."

Nausea swept over Lana as her nerves went out of control. "I think I'm gonna be sick."

Éowyn quickly took Lana's arm and helped her sit on a wooden barrel near the fence. "You're as pale as newly fallen snow. You should return to bed, your injury—"

"It's not because of my injury," Lana groused through gritted teeth. Seeing the other woman's surprise at her pissy mood, Lana sighed. "Éowyn, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you."

The Lady of Rohan gave her a sympathetic look. "You have been ill for some days now and in forced confinement. I would be irritable as well."

Lana gave her a half smile. "I think I'm ok now. It's gone." She inhaled and sat up straighter. "Where are you off to?"

Éowyn gave her a true smile then. "The stables. I am in need of a ride. I too have been kept inside for too long and my spirit demands release. I find freedom upon the back of a noble horse."

Lana's lips quirked at Éowyn's unbridled enthusiasm. These people's passion for horses was endearing in many ways.

"Would it be any trouble if I went with you? Maybe I could brush a horse or something."

Lana knew that being around animals would help her right now. At home, she had her fluffy cat of ecstatic craziness. Pangur Bán was completely bi-polar but she loved him to death. How she missed that damn cat!

Then of course when she was young she and Aidan spent the summers at their grandfather's horse ranch in Kildare County, Ireland. Many a long lazy day she had spent grooming horses and braiding manes and tails. It would be a soothing chore now.

"I am certain that there are plenty of horses who would enjoy your attentions," Éowyn replied, and then she tilted her head slightly. "If you are certain that you are well enough. I would enjoy your company."

Lana stood up carefully, relieved that the fleeting illness from her nerves had passed. "I'm ok."

Éowyn's smile widened and they walked together to the stables. They were actually much closer than Lana initially realized. The fence closed off a small paddock area. Éowyn explained that they had larger paddocks at the bottom of the city, but this was used for the horses of the royal house and the guards' mounts.

Two sentinels were posted at the entrance to the stables reminding Lana again of just how valuable these animals were to their people. Unlike the streets, which were still rather quiet, the barn was abuzz with activity. Stable boys and girls were everywhere filling buckets and mucking out stalls. Established grooms were tending the magnificent steeds, polishing their coats to a glossy shine.

Éowyn led the way down the aisle until she stopped by a bay mare that watched her keenly. Lana recognized the horse as the one Gimli had ridden on the journey to Helm's Deep.

Lana's mood sobered as she thought about the fortress. It seemed like ages ago when it had only been a few days. So much had happened so fast, and thoughts of Legolas came rushing back into her mind. What was he doing at this moment? Did his thoughts turn to her as hers gravitated to him?

She wandered down the stalls, looking but not really seeing the horses that stood there watching her with interest.

"I would not bother with that horse there, milady."

Lana started and turned to see a young man with keen brown eyes. He blew back his dirty blonde hair as he hefted a bale of hay. Lana had been so lost in her thoughts that she had not consciously realized that she had walked to the end of the barn.

She glanced at the horse the man referred to. The chestnut had his hindquarters facing the aisle; his weight shifted to one side and his head was so low that his muzzle nearly touched the straw on the floor.

"Every master he has known has died," the groom continued sadly. "And his spirit is breaking. It happens some times; never pleasant to witness." He sent the hay down in an empty stall, and grabbed a pitchfork.

Lana moved slightly trying to see the horse's face. Her lips parted when she recognized him. "Hasufel," she murmured in shock. The horse's ears pricked at the sound of his name, but he did not turn.

"You know him, Lady?" The man asked, curious now.

Lana nodded, her eyes looking over the once magnificent stallion. He was dirty and looked ill. "Yes. The last time I saw him was at Helm's Deep. He looks nothing like the horse I knew." Her heart broke at the sight.

The once noble animal appeared to be giving up on life. His eyes were dull, lifeless, and he seemed oblivious to all the activity behind him. Uneaten oats and grains were in his feedbox, and his water appeared untouched. It looked like he hadn't moved in days.

"Hasufel," Lana called in soft beckoning tone.

The stallion's left ear swiveled in her direction. Sluggishly the massive head turned and he peered at her.

"Do you have any fresh oats or alfalfa?" Lana asked the groom.

He nodded. "Aye, but I do not think it will do any good. He has not taken food in days."

"Still, I'd like to try. Please," Lana persisted.

She slowly unlatched the rope door and approached the stallion cautiously, letting him know that she was near. He shifted slightly and grunted low in his throat. Lana let her fingers brush over his flank.

The horse shifted his weight so it was distributed evenly and turned towards her slowly. He nickered plaintively.

"Hey boy. Why aren't you eating?" She asked still stroking his coat.

She smiled sadly at him. Switching to Italian she continued to murmur sweetly at him. _"Sei un bellissimo ragazzo,"_ She rubbed a hand along his back. _"Devi mangiare." You are such a handsome boy. You must eat._

Seeing how tall he was next to her, she laughed slightly.

_"Sei così grande!"_ Her fingers rubbed his shoulders now. _"So Aragorn non vorrebbe vederti così. Lo sapevate che è vivo? Lui è." You are so big! I know Aragorn wouldn't want to see you like this. Did you know that he is alive? He is._

The stallion pushed his nose toward her hand and she stroked his soft muzzle.

"He's ignored everyone who has entered his stall, yet he responds to you," the groom murmured in dumbfounded shock. He was leaning against the edge of the stall watching the interaction avidly.

"We know each other," Lana explained, not looking at him. "Did you bring any oats?"

The man nodded and lifted a small wooden bucket over the stall wall. Taking it Lana set it in front of Hasufel.

_"Qui bello. Hanno qualcosa da mangiare."_ _Here handsome. Have something to eat._

Hasufel snuffled the bucket and shook his whole body sending dust and hay in all directions. Lana coughed waving her hand through the dusty air, but smiled.

"You're a dirty boy too," she laughed.

"Here, Lady."

Lana turned and took the proffered bristle brush. With methodical strokes she began to move it over Hasufel's coat. More and more dust fell to the floor with each stroke. Deliberately she began to groom the horse, and Hasufel allowed it. The stallion observed her with interest, and then quietly began to munch upon the oats in the wooden bucket.

"I do not believe it. He eats!" The young man exclaimed.

Lana smiled, happy to see the horse eating. She felt a pang of guilt for running away from him at Helm's Deep. It seemed that he had forgiven her though.

She glanced sideways at the groom who stood by the stall door watching her and Hasufel with wonderment. He was rather handsome: tall, youthful with the promise of strength. He was fair like most Rohan people, but the sight of his golden features reminded her of someone else she knew.

Someone who claimed to love her deeply and was waiting for her response.

Lana quickly diverted her eyes from the man and focused on Hasufel. She was no closer to knowing what she felt for Legolas than when he had stunned her with his declaration at dawn.

"Are you well, Lady?"

She jumped slightly at groom's voice. "I'm fine. Why do you ask?" She inquired suspiciously.

Was she becoming transparent? Were her cares and worries there for everyone to see?

"It is only that you seemed lost in thought."

Lana didn't meet the man's concerned eyes. "I'm fine. Thank you." She tempered her frosty tone with a smile directed his way at the last moment. "Now that he's eating, I'm going to clean him up. We'll be ok. Thank you for your help."

The groom gave a short bow and left, wandering off down the aisle of the barn, but Lana could tell that he was baffled by her abrupt dismissal. She sighed and focused instead on Hasufel, and not on the handsome elven archer who kept infiltrating her thoughts.

It would be a good idea to push Legolas from her mind for a short while. That way she could return to the issue with fresh eyes. She started to hum as she worked, taking special care to make the stallion feel especially good.

A barn cat appeared, walking along the partition between the stalls. She was a lovely gray and white thing with blue eyes. Lana smiled, ridiculously happy to see her first cat in Middle Earth. She chatted to both the horse and cat in Italian, some times using Gaelic terms of endearment. She refused to speak Sindarin lest it brought up unwanted thoughts.

Lana lost track of all time in the stables. Men, women, and children came and went without her so much as acknowledging their presence. Éowyn had asked her if she wished to ride, but Lana felt that she wasn't ready. Another day of rest for her injury would make her stronger.

Éowyn left for her ride and came back, inquiring if Lana wanted food, but she declined. Instead she chose to fuss over the barn cat and stallion, who had now finished his oats and was nibbling on hay. The horse shone with her attentive care and she could tell from his manner that he was well pleased.

Lana asked if the cat had a name, to which Éowyn shrugged uncertainly and then left. So she christened the cat Miu since the creature was very talkative. Every time she said something the cat would reply with a purring-meow. Lana alternated between brushing the cat and the horse, absurdly delighted by the two animals.

By giving them attention, she knew she was avoiding her return to the house and memory of Legolas' kiss. She had come to no conclusion about her own feelings and if anything she had only confused herself even more. She knew she was attracted to Legolas. That much she did know. And she loved him as a friend but beyond that she couldn't be sure. The fact that she knew next to nothing about elves certainly didn't aid her.

Finally, her protesting stomach forced her to return to the house. She promised Hasufel that she would be back the following day and that maybe they could go for a walk together. Funnily enough, Miu followed behind her much to Lana's amusement.

The men were gone from the kitchen tending their duties for the day. Ammora was nowhere to be seen, and Lana thought perhaps she might have struck some luck that she would be alone to think. Miu still trotted behind her as she moved to the curtain that separated her room.

She stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the figure by the window. Her heart pounded hard against her chest. She thought that Legolas had returned, but she instantly saw that it wasn't the elf.

It was Aragorn.

The Ranger turned and gave a warm smile upon seeing her. His brows lifted in surprise as Miu trotted into the room and promptly jumped up on her bed and made herself comfortable.

His lips quirked then he looked back at Lana with a brow lifted. But he didn't comment on the feline. "Lana. I was surprised when you were not here. I worried that something had happened."

_You don't know the half of it,_ she bemoaned to herself.

"I went to the stables with Lady Éowyn."

He frowned. "Did you ride?"

She instantly shook her head. "No, I brushed Hasufel. I think he believed we all abandoned him. He hadn't eaten for days, but he ate when I was there today."

Aragorn smiled then. "That is good news. He is a noble horse."

Lana nodded and then tilted her head towards the cat. "And I made a new friend apparently."

"I see," he moved toward the feline who was happily grooming herself on a pillow.

He scratched the cat's ears, to which she mewed appreciatively. Lana's heart pounded as she saw that Miu sat on the pillow Legolas had used. Tearing her eyes away she filled the silence awkwardly.

"She says her name is Miu," she chattered.

"Ah, a good name for a cat." Aragorn replied, and then stepped back with a sigh. Oddly the man seem preoccupied much like her. After a few moments he looked up into Lana's eyes. "You look well."

She clasped her hands together. "I'm feeling better thanks to you," she told him gratefully.

_And my heart is ripping in so many different directions because of Legolas._

"I wished to thank you—for what you did at Helm's Deep. You saved my life." Aragorn said with quiet sincerity.

Lana blushed and stroked Miu. "You're welcome."

"And while I am thankful for what you did, I must also tell you how extremely foolish your actions were. You could have been killed and I would have never forgiven myself."

Lana felt her lips quirk even as she kept her eyes on Miu. The cat was still purring loudly on the pillow.

"I made the choice. Not you. You shouldn't feel guilty about it." She told him meeting his eyes at last.

"But you are under our protection."

Silently Lana thanked him for not mentioning Legolas by name. "You can't protect everyone all the time," she countered.

Aragorn bowed his head but then lifted it several heartbeats later. "I know this, but I still try."

She smiled and moved forward and touched his arm familiarly. "I know. You'll make a great king one day," she said looking into his eyes steadily.

Lowering her hand she looked into space, her mind conjuring up the battle again. "I'm glad I made the decision to fight, even though I was scared. I could not live with myself if I hadn't warned you." She looked back into his eyes.

"How did you even discover the uruk-hai's intentions? And how did you escape the caves?" The man's gray eyes were full of questions.

"A fallen elf told me."

Aragorn's brows drew together. "Who?"

"Thunin of Lórien."

A great sadness filled Aragorn. "Thunin was at Helm's Deep? He fell?" He asked.

Lana tilted her head, regarding the Ranger thoughtfully. "You knew him?"

"Aye. I met him long ago when I was first in Lothlórien…when I met the Evenstar." He paused losing himself in the memories of happier times. "Thunin had just lost his wife. She had been killed in an orc attack. He was stricken with grief."

Lana felt her heart clench in deep sympathy. "That's horrible. I didn't know he was married. I only knew him for a few minutes and then…" Lana released a heavy breath. "Then he was gone."

Aragorn lowered his eyes, a silent prayer in his heart. "He is with his wife now."

Lana nodded and they shared a moment of silence in memory of the courageous elf.

"He's the one who told me. I think he was surprised that I could speak some Sindarin. I told him that I was friends with you, and that's when he told me that you were danger. After he passed I hid away from everyone and…cried.

"I felt such a loss even though I didn't even know him." Lana moved to the window as memories flashed like a silent movie in her brain. Her fingers griped the edges of the window frame. "I knew that if I didn't find a way to warn you, then I might never see you again." She turned and looked straight into the Ranger's eyes. "And that wasn't an option for me.

"I changed into my clothes from Lothlórien, and began collecting pieces of armor from the injured men and boys who were brought into the caves. Once I was dressed everything that I could find that fit, I slipped out easily enough. The guard must have thought I was returning to the battle or something. And the rest you know." She thinned her lips.

"You were incredibly foolish to do that," Aragorn told her again. "Disobeying not only the orders of the king, but those of your protectors—you put yourself in grave danger to save my life. But I will be forever grateful." He told her proudly.

Lana was no seasoned warrior, but she had demonstrated her courage. Gandalf had been right. She had proven herself.

She smiled at the man, but it waned as her thoughts pivoted back to Legolas like a pendulum. The entire room continued to remind her of him. She wondered what he was doing right this very moment. Did he miss her as much as she was beginning to miss him? Other than at Helm's Deep, this was the longest she had been away from him.

The fear at Helm's Deep was not now present, but the anxiety of when she would see him again was.

"He told you."

Her heart jumped at the statement. There could be no doubt of whom Aragorn spoke of. Still she put on a ruse of ignorance.

"Hmm?"

"I can see the bewilderment and fear all over your face. Legolas told you of his heart."

Lana's lips parted in disbelief. "How did you…"

"Legolas came back very early this morning. Something must have happened for him to leave your side." Aragorn said watching her. "Normally he talks of nothing but you, but this morn he was silent and pensive. He said not a word when we met with Gandalf before breakfast, nor has he uttered a sound all day."

He took a step closer. "Elves are not silent for nothing."

Lana cast her eyes to the floor. "You know about his…feelings for me?" She asked timidly.

_"Aye. Istan ned în meleth an le." Yes. I know of his love for you._

Lana took a deep shuddering breath and released it. She leaned back against the windowsill, wrapping her arms around herself. She bit her lip before looking at the Ranger.

"I'm afraid, Aragorn," she admitted honestly. "I never expected this to happen. He told me has never loved anyone in all his long years—and now he suddenly tells me that he's in love with _me_. And that I have his heart." She added looking terribly lost.

"You were blind to it as well," Aragorn said aloud, more to himself than to her.

She lifted a brow in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"Legolas had no notion that he loved you until you were injured. He knew of his affection for you as a friend, but only when you were wounded did everything fall into place for him. Certainly you noticed how his eyes were always upon you? How protective he grew as time passed, especially in the presence of other men."

He held her gaze. "Was there never any tension between you? Awkward moments to alert you of his feelings?"

Lana nodded. "Yes, there were—but I thought I was just seeing things. As much as I wanted it, I never thought he would love me."

Aragorn's brows jumped up in surprise. "You wanted him to love you?"

Lana closed her eyes and exhaled heavily. Did she really want to answer that question? Her back hit the window frame.

"It crossed my mind now and then—when I was safe in his arms I thought, how wonderful it would be to be loved by someone like him. I was even silly enough to think that he might be in love with me after his behavior on our first day here in Edoras."

She chuckled humorlessly. "I convinced myself that he was jealous of Derngar. But then he later told me that he had never loved a woman before, and I believed I was being delusional. I began to think that anything other than friendship would be impossible between us. And I accepted that."

There was a breath of silence. Then Aragorn spoke. "Yet he did fall in love with you."

Lana ran a hand over her face, gripping her temples between her thumb and middle finger.

"Aragorn, he _can't_ love me." Her eyes were watery when she met his gaze. "I'm not an elf. I'm not immortal. I'm not even from this world! Gandalf says that I will live out my life here—but what if he's _wrong?_ And if he is right, I'm still going to die eventually."

Pushing off the window frame she turned and gripped it tightly. Her body tensed as she radiated anxiety.

"I mean what would happen to him if we…if we allowed a relationship to happen and then I passed away? What would that be like for him?"

Aragorn sighed. "I don't know," he said uneasily.

"What normally happens to elves who fall in love with mortals and then lose them?" She asked doggedly, her grip tightening on the sill.

Her fingernails scraped against the wood. Aragorn observed her rigid posture with some pity. What was common knowledge in Middle Earth was not so to her.

"Lana," he said slowly. "Elves very rarely fall in love with mortals. It has only happened a handful of times in all of Middle Earth's history."

Lana turned sharply to look at him. "But it _has_ happened."

He exhaled through his nose. "Aye."

"And what's happened to those elves that fell in love with mortals?"

Aragorn shifted his weight again, and looked away before settling his eyes back on Lana. He was growing more uncomfortable with each passing moment. It felt as if the room was shrinking in on him.

"Lana, it would be best if you spoke to Legolas about this."

"No." She said bluntly. "I want to hear it from you. You're mortal and an elf loves you."

Shuffling his feet ever so slightly, Aragorn forced himself to hold her demanding gaze. "Arwen is different than Legolas," he murmured, speaking his beloved's name for the first time in Lana's presence.

She gave him a bland look, not understanding. "How do you mean?"

"Arwen's father is _peredhil_—half-elven. She has the ability to choose to be counted among elf-kind or mankind."

"And Legolas doesn't have that choice?"

Aragorn shook his head. "He is full blooded Sindarin with a Silven heritage. He can only die of a serious injury, or from grief of a broken heart. Even then, he would not truly die. His spirit would enter the Halls of Mandos and be given a chance to be re-embodied in Valinor."

Only one part of this mattered to Lana. "Elves can die of a broken heart?"

Aragorn exhaled and silently cursed himself for saying too much. He had come here to thank her, and comfort her, not distress her.

"Lana, this is something you should—"

"If I died," she interrupted sharply. "And Legolas loved me, he could die of a broken heart?" She demanded.

"Lana…"

"Tell me dammit!" She said through gritted teeth. "Could he _die?"_

Aragorn looked away. "It is a possibility."

Lana's mouth fell open and she covered her mouth with her hand.

Aragorn watched the bewildered woman as she slowly sank to the floor. He regretted ever mentioning Legolas. But despite her distress she did need to know these things about elves…about Legolas. She needed to know what she was getting involved with. He just wished it were not he who had to tell her.

He knelt in front of her. "Lana, to be mortal and loved by an elf is an incredible gift. Eru does not grant it to many of us. Do not use the knowledge that Legolas _could_ perish as the basis for your decision for your feelings about him."

"How can I not?" She retorted waspishly. "If I allow him to love me, he could die!"

Her dark blue eyes flashed vehemently. This knowledge created such a maelstrom in her heart that she felt angry as well as helpless. Aragorn took her hands tightly in his, drawing her eyes to him.

"It is beyond _allowing_ him to love you now; he already loves you. That cannot be changed."

"People can fall out of love." Lana said persistently.

"Aye—mortals can. Elves cannot."

She gave him a dark look full of hurt and consternation. "What are you saying?"

Aragorn held her gaze steadily. "Regardless of the path you choose, Legolas will love you. You are the first woman he has felt this strongly for, and judging by his actions, how his eyes follow you—you will be the only woman he ever loves."

She shook her head not wanting to accept this. "But—"

"Even if you decide that being with him is not what you want," he interjected. "And you marry a mortal man, Legolas will continue to love you. If you choose to never marry, he will still continue to love you. He will love you until the end of time. Such is the power and curse of elven emotions."

Lana dropped her head as her hand gripped at her heart. How could something so wonderful as being in love bring such an ill-fated, bitter result? Was love always doomed? Unbidden she saw her parents' faces. Then Eric's scowling countenance haunted her mind.

She felt Aragorn take her hands; his rough thumbs rubbed the back of her hands trying to reassure her. It wasn't until Miu, the stable cat appeared at her side, and meowed that she looked up. Eyes clouded with tears she reached for the feline and held it in her lap, stroking the soft fur.

Aragorn watched as Lana struggled with all that he had told her. It pained him to see her thus. He felt compelled to reach out and rest his hand on her shoulder.

"Listen to your heart, and let it guide you." He told her, even as she squeezed the affectionate cat to her chest. "If you love him, you must tell him; but if you find that you do not, then he must know. He deserves honesty even if it hurts him."

Lana said nothing, her entire being still whirling with all of this. She felt like she had been thrown from a car and was falling through the air waiting for the inevitable impact. It was bad enough that her body hurt, but did her heart have to be wounded now too? Slowly she lifted her gaze to Aragorn's.

"Gandalf told me I had decisions to make and that I should listen to my heart. I didn't realize that he meant decisions like this." She sighed and stroked the purring cat in her lap. "He knew didn't he?"

"Aye."

Lana swallowed thickly. "And he's gone?"

Aragorn's brows drew over his blue eyes. "He left this morning. How did you know?"

She shook her head. "Just a feeling. Where did he go?"

"He took Pippin to Minas Tirith, in Gondor."

Her eyes grew wide. "He took the hobbits?"

Aragorn shook his head, his black hair dusting his shoulders with the movement. "Nay, he only took Pippin."

"Because he looked into that crystal ball thing?"

Again, the Ranger was surprised. "Aye. And how did you know about the Palantir?"

"…Legolas…told me."

Aragorn frowned at how her voice fell to just above a whisper as she spoke the elf's name. "I fear I have said too much."

She shook her head though. "No. I'm glad you told me." She looked up at him, her fingers now rubbing the purring cat's belly. "I know next to nothing about elves, and while this information is…is difficult to swallow, I am glad that I'm not in the dark anymore."

She smirked, but it was devoid of humor. "Is there anything else I should know about elves?"

"Only that I know Legolas well. Whether you love him or not, he will remain a steady protector throughout your life. He will be satisfied with friendship if that makes you happy. He is loyal and devoted, and to receive his love is the greatest gift you could ever obtain from him."

Lana lowered her head, and watched her fingers spread through the white belly fur of the contented feline in her lap.

"I guess I have a lot more thinking to do."

Aragorn nodded and leaned forward to place a gentle brotherly kiss upon Lana's brow. Seconds later her stomach grumbled noisily. They shared a muted laugh.

"You must be hungry. Come, let us eat some food and then I will leave you to your thoughts."

Lana smiled in appreciation.

Aragorn stood and helped her up and they went to the communal room that served as the kitchen, dining room, and common area. They shared a quiet meal together, only interrupted by Miu, which prompted Lana to tell the future king all about her cat from home.

They laughed together, swapping stories of youth until Aragorn left her to mull through her feelings.

* * *

_Reviews feed the muse!_

_Thanks for reading! _


	39. Breaking Promises

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story. **

I make no claim to Tolkien's works_._ I also give credit to Cormak3032.

* * *

**Chapter 38: Breaking Promises**

Lana tried to sleep that night, even after she lost the contents of her dinner into the chamber pot. Twice. Her nerves were erratic and no matter how she tried to calm them down she continued to be wound up tighter than a hydraulic spring.

She tossed and turned in bed, making Miu—who seemed to claim her as her person now—meow in protest. Eventually, she got out of bed and paced, trying to get rid of her nervous energy.

All she could think about was Legolas dying because of her. While she now understood that he would not die as she did, it didn't help her feel any better. Even now she did not truly understand what or where Valinor was.

It sounded like a heaven to her but she had been told several times that it was indeed a physical place. But elves could get there via sailing or by dying, so…what was it? All she knew was that if Legolas died he would cease to exist here in Middle Earth.

She had been curious about how elves could die and had probed Aragorn's mind after eating. He had been hesitant to discuss the matter, but he finally explained that elves very often found a place that gave them peace, and they lied down and gave up their spirit.

While it seemed peaceful, it sounded altogether too much like suicide for her to take comfort in it. She had heard of humans dying of a broken heart but it was very rare. And with elves feeling things more strongly than her race, what must they feel in the moments before their spirits left their bodies? What about all that anguish they must be experiencing?

Aragorn also told her that it was uncommon for an elf to survive the death of their spouse—though it could happen. But when elves love as strongly as they do, it was like their spirits became intertwined with their loved ones. It was a bond that not even death could severe. They would rather give up life and follow their other half into the dark instead of face the world alone.

How could she allow Legolas to go through that?

And on the flip side of the coin, what if she denied Legolas a relationship with her? Could she truly deal with the tension that would develop every time she was in his presence? It would undoubtedly be there.

Even prior to Legolas professing his love to her, she had felt such strong emotional waves that were not like her. When he was around he managed to make her feel things more intensely than was her wont—or that she liked. It was as if when they were enjoying each other's company, the sun would never set—it was akin to drinking the finest liquors and having the absolute best day of her life. But when they were at odds, the discomfort and unease were tripled in intensity to the point that she felt it almost as a physical pain.

She didn't understand it, never having experienced its like before. In her mind's eye, she saw again those pale blue eyes staring at her from across the room at dinner. She had become so nervous that she couldn't even finish her meal. Is this how she wanted to live on a day-to-day basis?

And what was the alternative? To leave his life indefinitely…what would that be like? Aragorn had said that Legolas would abide with whatever path she chose, but that he would remain her protector throughout her life. What did that mean? Would he be with her always until the end? Her only way to escape him then would be to find a way home. And that seemed an even bleaker prospect.

Lana's heart screamed at the thought of never seeing Legolas again. It would be almost worse than death, knowing that she would deny herself his presence while they were both alive. How horrible would be to tell him, _'Legolas, I don't want to see you ever again. Have a nice life.'_

It would break his heart, and quite possibly kill hers as well.

And so for the last ten hours, Lana struggled back and forth between her two options. She was making herself sick again, and her stomach sent a searing warning of agitation slicing through her. Finally, when she could stand it no longer. She pulled out her jeans, black camisole, and flannel shirt from her backpack, wanting to dress in something familiar and comforting.

Grabbing her fleecy hoodie she zipped it up and left the house quickly. She didn't have a destination but she walked quickly as if late to a meeting. Tugging her hood over her head she wandered the empty streets. The rubber soles of her converse shoes crunched softly on the dirt road. Soon her feet were at the bottom of the steps that led up to the Golden Hall.

A tingling began at the nape of her neck, making all the tiny hairs stand straight up. He was here. She was certain of it. Peering into the shadows she could just make out a figure standing on the opposite end of the wide porch. He didn't move for several moments but then he stepped into the light.

Lana's breath was stolen away.

Legolas moved into the pale moonlight. To Lana, he had never looked more beautiful…or unobtainable. His hair was like silver in the soft celestial lights; his eyes were a piercing blue that seemed to be lit from within. The alabaster white of his skin was flawless. One look at him and Lana felt unworthy of his love.

Slowly she climbed the steps so that she stood on the porch with him, but not too close. Legolas dipped his head, bringing his hand to his chest and extending it to her in the formal elven greeting.

_"Mae govannen."_

He greeted her like a stranger! Tears stung the back of her eyes but she forced them away. Legolas was no doubt building a wall around himself to protect his heart lest she denied him. Wouldn't she have done the same if their positions were reversed?

_"Mae govannen,"_ she murmured, her voice huskier than usual.

She had no idea how to proceed until she looked carefully into Legolas' eyes. While his voice had been emotionless, his eyes were completely the opposite. He looked utterly vulnerable standing in the moonlight. Waiting. His love for her shone so brightly, that it made Lana's heart cry and sing at the same time. Her breath caught in her throat.

They stood in silence staring at each other.

"I had hoped we would speak at dinner," his soft voice betraying him.

Lana bowed her head, the golden waves of her falling from her hood, obscuring her face. Her body was visibly shaking. She was scared. It was obvious to her that Legolas cared for her deeply, and from her discussion with Aragorn, she knew that would never change.

How was she to go forward? What was the right way?

The silence grew thick between. At last, she lifted her head and peered through the strands of hair, but she didn't quite meet his eyes.

"I…I told you I needed time."

Legolas drew in a breath. "I promised you time. But I fear that it was a mistake to promise something I have no control over."

Lana's brows drew together in confusion and she dared to meet his eyes at last. "What do you mean? You have given me time. I…" she glanced down at the stone pavers that made up the Golden Hall's portico. She came to a sudden understanding. "I came to you, not the other way around."

"Aye, you did; but I see you need more time, and I cannot give it to you. _Goheno nin."_

"I don't understand."

Legolas dared to step closer and Lana drew in the perfume of the forest and that musky aroma that was Legolas' unique scent alone. He hesitantly took her right hand and turned it so her palm faced up. Ever so lightly as if he feared she would dash away like a frightened woodland creature, he traced the lines on her skin. The black ink of _invictus_ stared up at them both.

Lana felt her pulse accelerate.

"I am leaving. Perhaps the day after tomorrow. I know not when I will return to Edoras…if ever," his voice was pained as he spoke.

Lana started, drawing in a breath sharply. She had expected him to tell her something about their relationship, but not this. Definitely not this.

"Le-leaving?" She stammered.

He nodded.

"But why? And to where? Are the others going with you?" She asked panicking. "What about me?"

The last sentence made Legolas close his eyes and the anguish on his fair face made Lana want to burst into tears.

"Gandalf and Pippin went to Minas Tirith. We wait for the beacons on the mountainside to be lit, calling for aid. Aragorn believes it will be soon."

Lana felt as if she swallowed a stone and that she was going to sink and drown in the flood of emotions that crowded her entire being.

"The war," she whispered.

Legolas nodded.

She pressed her eyes closed as if she could block it all out. Shaking her head her hood fell back. "It's too early," she protested, opening her eyes. "I'm not ready."

"Not many are ever ready for war, _Melethril_. Often it comes without warning. Minas Tirith will need us. We must align ourselves to defeat Sauron's forces." He gripped her hand and entwined their fingers, placing his other hand over them. "And so I must break my promise to you." He murmured gazing into her eyes. His own were filled with sorrow, excitement, and dread. "I must know what you feel—even if it is nothing other than friendship for me. To ride into battle without knowing would be torturous."

_To die without knowing would be more painful than the method used to kill me…_

Lana felt her lower lip tremble and she took it between her teeth nearly drawing blood. He was leaving. They were _all_ leaving. To head into a battle where she could not follow…and she was unable to stop them.

_"How would you feel if he fell?"_

_"It would…break me."_

_"What do you see in your future? Is Legolas in it? What does your heart tell you?"_

Bits and pieces of her conversation with Aragorn floated up into her consciousness. It would indeed break her if the elf fell in battle and she never saw him again. She knew her connection to him was more powerful and more meaningful than any she had ever shared with a man back home.

If he died…she could well believe that she too would die from grief. In the span of a few heartbeats, she came to understand what her heart had been so desperately trying to tell her.

And there was no going back.

Ever.

"I love you," the whispered words tumbled from her lips of their own volition.

Legolas stiffened in what seemed to be amazement. Apparently he had not expected such a blunt answer from her either.

Deliberately Lana lifted her head and met his eyes. "I love you…but I am afraid, Legolas." She told him with firm honesty.

All the walls he built to protect his heart came crumbling down. His love for her shone as brightly as the celestial lights above. "What do you fear, _Melethril?"_ He asked softly.

She took her hands and placed them on his chest, her fingers curling to grip his tunic. "That I'll hurt you, or worse yet…_kill_ you." She spoke with deep passion.

"Kill me?" Legolas started, eyes wide. He stared into her fearful face and suddenly understood. "You have spoken to Aragorn about elf-kind."

She swallowed and nodded, her eyes hooding. Legolas' hands descended onto her shoulders and she glanced up.

"Eru already decided my fate. Long ago he felt it best that I should not love among my kind; but that I should share my heart and my life with a mortal woman from beyond the stars; from a strange realm and lost age, who appeared in a time of great peril. I will gladly give up everything Middle Earth has to offer in exchange for even a few precious years with you by my side."

His hands slid down her arms to hold her hands that gripped his tunic. "This is my choice; not yours."

"But if I choose to be with you—"

"Then I will be the happiest elf alive," he finished. He held her hands tightly and brought them up to his lips. _"Meleth nín,_ there is no guarantee that I will outlive you or that you will outlive me. There is only the hope that Eru favors us with time to enjoy all that life has to offer." _My love._

He leaned forward and pressed a delicate kiss on her worried brow. Lana bit her lip again, feeling tossed about on a wild sea. Blindly she reached for an anchor, something to tie herself to lest she drown. His voice was what she latched herself to.

"Will you let me fight for you? For our future together?"

Tears blurred Lana's vision. No one had ever said such words to her before…never asked such heartfelt questions. But Legolas just had and it overjoyed and frightened her all at the same time.

Her answer was to take his hands, much like he had hers. Taking first one and then the other, kissing each of his palms, and then each of his fingers; finally Lana drew closer to him. She placed his hands on her hips and ran hers up his chest to curve around his neck.

She let her eyes roam over the features of his face: the flawless skin, the sculpted cheekbones, the dark arching brows that rested above eyes so ethereal that they appeared unreal. She studied his straight nose, which she had always secretly loved; and then his lips. She parted her own, before looking deeply into his eyes.

"Yes," she whispered, tilting her head up to his, her breath on his lips. "You are my champion. My heart is yours."

Instantly Legolas' mouth slanted over hers with unrestrained joy. He began gently at first and then with great need. And how he _needed_ this woman! The strength with which his spirit yearned for her was frightening but thrilling at the same time.

And now that she was his, he vowed to never let her go as long as either of them lived.

* * *

_Big sigh of relief? Reviews feed the muse! _

_For those of you who know Cormak's "Mysterious Fate", you will recognize this chapter as the one where she left us all gasping for more and never did return. As I promised when I started posting my "fanfic" of her fanfic, I will not do that. Rest assured I have plenty more chapters._

_As always, thanks for reading!_


	40. Sweet Ephemera

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.**

I claim nothing of Tolkien's. It's all his. I just play in his world.

Nota Bene: This is a very fluffy chapter, with a couple more fluffy chapters after it. But I figured our star-crossed couple deserves a bit of sweetness, no?

At this point the story become solely my own. I hope you still enjoy it.

* * *

**Chapter 39: Sweet Ephemera **

Lana sighed holding Legolas tightly to her. His lips fit hers so perfectly—and she thought, quite ridiculously—that they had been made for each other. Despite his fervor, Legolas was a rather timid kisser. This made her affection for him grow. He was so sweet that it was nigh borderline on adolescent. But he was far from ignorant or inexperienced. Just only in the matters of love. It would be up to her to teach him the art, and she knew that she would relish the task.

They would have to take baby-steps. Her level of intimacy far outweighed his experience. Still, she thought she would make a good teacher. At any rate, she was delighted to have this moment. Its sweetness was perfect. _Like a Jane Austin novel,_ she mentally laughed. _My own Mr. Darcy._

Nuzzling closer she urged Legolas to open his mouth to her. He tasted of honey, ale, and sweet bread. His arms were wrapped firmly around her as if he never intended to let her go. Lana's own hands moved to rub his neck before her fingers spread up under his pale hair to begin a soothing massage of his scalp. He moaned under her ministrations. The sound and feel of his pleasure excited her.

Lana was still in many ways afraid. Love was a serious matter for her. But now they were in this _together_. The relief she felt at that simple notion was absurd, but there it was. And he was right. There was no guarantee that either of them would outlive the pending war. So until then, there was nothing to lose.

Slowly, and quite reluctantly, Legolas decelerated their kiss. His body was electrified as if touched by Manwë's lightening. The scent, the feel—the very _taste_ of this woman was like a powerful elixir. It created new and pleasant urges in his body that made him press himself against Lana's inviting curves. There was a tightening in his lower stomach and loins that threatened to drive him senseless.

Feeling as if he was drowning, he drew back, albeit very gradually. It was difficult, and ironically it felt like he was leaving the spring while still thirsty. Resting his forehead against hers they shared a breath. He smiled noticing that she was just as winded as he.

Her eyes flicked up to his, and he saw her shy smile, but underneath it was something that made his spirit quiver with a new thrill. The fire that was omnipresent in her eyes now seemed lit with a new quality—and he dared to think that it was for him alone.

"I feel as if my heart will burst," he told her smiling broadly. "As if it were a bird and you have just given it its wings, _Melethril."_

She smiled, hooding her eyes bashfully before meeting his once more. "I feel the same," she whispered. "But about you."

His smile grew, and he kissed the tip of her nose playfully. Then he glanced up at the night sky thinking that it was shining all the clearer now that he was in love and loved in return.

"The hour is very late," he sighed looking down at her. "You must rest."

Her lips quirked. "I don't know if I can." She felt suddenly giddy. "I feel like," and then she started laughing.

Smiling, Legolas tilted his head and looked at her. "You feel like…what?"

With her eyes gleaming with love and affection she said, "I feel like singing—and _dancing!_ I haven't danced in _ages!"_ She giggled.

Legolas laughed with her. Was it possible to die from happiness he wondered? He swept her into his arms—conscious of her injury—and twirled her around. He grinned as she laughed joyously.

"And what would we dance to, _meleth nín?_ We have no music," he said, not giving her the option to dance alone.

"We don't need music," she said almost sensually. "It beats in our hearts." She grinned looking more beautiful than he had ever seen her.

Unable to resist he dipped down and kissed her tenderly. "Aye, and what sweet music it is too," he murmured against her lips

However, it was late and the night had grown frigid. Lana's simple clothes from home were not warm enough against the chilly wind that picked up. She shivered, and Legolas frowned. "Come, we must get you inside. I will not have you catching ill while you are still healing."

He tucked her against his side and walked her back to Ammora's cottage. Opening the door carefully, he shut it behind them without a sound. Then guiding her around the sleeping men they made for her small room. When they entered it was utterly dark. The fire had gone out and it was as cold as a fridge.

Lana grimaced and shivered wishing she had thicker blood. The weeks spent on the road had not toughed her up enough. She actually missed her Lothlórien cloths. Flattering they were not; but they certainly kept her warm.

Using the light from the windows Legolas set about starting the fire. But then Lana produced her nifty little lighter. He grinned and watched once more intrigued by the simple device. The little flame quickly caught the kindling and soon a warm blaze was crackling merrily.

He gazed at Lana from where she knelt beside him. Her body was angled toward the flame like a sunflower to the sky. Her face looked peaceful and content, and the fire danced over her skin giving her a wild look. In her otherworldly clothes she appeared like a vision to him.

As if feeling his eyes upon her she glanced sideways, her lips curving. "What?"

He smiled and brushed the hair from her face. "I was just thinking," he answered, his fingers lingering in her hair. "That you are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen."

She arched a brow and snorted in amusement, which made him chuckle. "Then perhaps your vision is not as good as we were all led to believe."

Grinning, he guided her face closer to his. "Nay, do not disparage yourself so,"

"Fine. I am _fairly_ beautiful," she conceded cheekily. "But I can think of plenty of other beautiful things that far surpass me."

"Such as?"

Her eyes drifted over his face, lingering on his lips before meeting his eyes.

"You."

He inhaled and drew her closer, but she grinned mischievously and pulled away leaving him blinking up at her.

"It's time for bed." She said saucily, making him smirk.

She gestured for him to face the fire. "I need to change. I'm not sleeping in my jeans."

He lifted a brow and raked his gaze over her, taking in the way her own clothing both concealed and revealed. The curves of her body were exposed to his scrutiny leaving little to the imagination. Yet at the same time she was fully covered. When their eyes met again, she lifted a brow. He chuckled, although he felt his face heat from staring at her so bluntly. Obligingly he turned away, but he tracked her movements with his ears.

"Do you wish me to stay with you this night?" He asked quietly.

He heard her make an obvious sound consent. "Well duh, you silly elf. I profess my love for you in return and you think you can just leave?"

His smile widened and he prepared to reply when his words became stuck in his throat. He felt her arms slid around him from behind. She laid her cheek against his back, rubbing against his shoulder blade. Automatically he covered her hands with his.

"If our time is limited, then I want to spend every moment—awake and asleep—with you." She murmured into him.

His heart filled with so much love that he wasn't sure he could contain it all. Gripping her hands he twisted around, seeking her face. Her smile caused his heart to leap. Then his eyes wandered over her attire in amazement.

She was dressed only in her black camisole and those form fitting leggings she had worn in Lothlórien. He had not seen them in months, and his mouth went dry from the way the hugged her body snugly. They were far more alluring than her other clothes.

He had never seen her bare arms or shoulders before, and his eyes greedily took in the flesh exposed before his eyes. Instantly he noticed the colored patterns on her right shoulder. Turning fully around, he studied them closely. With his fingers, he traced the images of cherry blossoms that whirled on her skin. He half expected the color to come away with his touch, but it did not.

Lana watched the look of wonder on the elf's face as he studied her ink for the first time. Aside from the _invictus_, Legolas had not seen her other tattoos. It never occurred to her to wonder what he might think of them.

She hadn't seen anyone in this world with tattoos. Would he find them odd? Perhaps repulsive? A drop of worry fell into her stomach at his careful study of the permanent images. The cherry blossoms were interspersed with art nouveau designs. The elegant pattern continued diagonally down her back to curve around her left hip. It was mostly hidden by her camisole at the moment.

Her skin tingled at his exploratory touch. At last he glanced up into her eyes, his fingers still moving across her skin, now tracing the winged collarbones above her breasts. She felt his breath on her face as he leaned in.

"_Bainen le," You are beautiful._

His lips pressed against hers. And they were lost in each other yet again. Only when a soft mew pierced the quiet did they break apart. Legolas glanced up in confusion at the appearance of a gray and white cat on the bed. Lana however smiled.

_"Che cosa fai,_ Miu?" She called sweetly. W_hat's up, Miu?_

The cat stood up and arched her back, uttering a short meow in response. Lana chuckled lightly.

"And what is this?" Legolas asked brows still lifted.

"A new friend." She smiled and pulled from Legolas' arms to pet the feline. "She's one of the stable cats. I call her Miu." The cat produced said sound as if on command. "Yes, that's you." She told the cat scratching its chin.

"What is the stable cat doing here?" Legolas asked bewildered as he came to stand by her shoulder.

Lana shrugged. "She's been following me around since yesterday morning." She stroked the arched back. "I guess she's figured out that I'm a cat person."

Legolas gave her a look of something between surprise and puzzlement. "A cat person?"

Her face was one of consternation and mock-horror. "Don't tell me that you don't like cats!" She warned teasingly. "Because if that's the case then things will never work out between us."

She scooped up the cat who purred loudly and rubbed its face under her chin. Legolas watched this display of human-feline affection with slow amusement.

"I cannot say that I am. We do not have cats in Mirkwood."

Lana looked up as if the idea was abhorrent. "No cats?" She blinked. "Well, that's a tragedy right there." Miu jumped from her arms and began kneading the quilt on the bed. "No matter what the future holds, you can bet your bottom dollar that it _will_ have cats in it."

Legolas chuckled. It delighted him to see Lana free spirited and happy. While the future remained ambiguous he was determined to not waste any of this precious time he had with Lana. He would take the memory of her smile, her voice, and her taste with him into battle.

More than ever he resolved to rid Middle Earth of the Enemy. He wanted to clear the filth from the world, make it safe for her so that she could fill his days with delight—and as many cats, as she wished.

This night he shared the bed her without compunction. He held her in his arms until she fell asleep, his fingers stroking her hair. Miu was settled in her arms, purring contentedly. The feline's smile mirrored Lana's, which Legolas found quite endearing.

Eventually, he fell into a truly peaceful slumber with Lana tucked securely against him.

o0o

The following morning found the elf and mortal woman awake and blissful. They rose up early and were already eating breakfast together in the Hall before the rest of the Fellowship. Despite the fact that Rohan was holding its breath, they found solace in each other's company. Few people were in the Hall when they arrived and they took advantage of sneaking a kiss behind one of the tall pillars before sitting down to eat.

Aragorn was the first to join them. He looked exhausted but he smiled—though resignedly. He saw the change in Legolas and Lana the moment he entered the room. It both charmed his heart and pained it to see their affection for one another. A myriad of thoughts marched through his mind. Would their love be doomed from the start? It was no simple thing to love an elf he knew. And he was not wrong in telling Lana that Legolas did not have the Choice. He would forever remain part of the _Eldar_ race.

Seeing their secret smiles for each other and the loving glances, Aragorn felt a new stinging in his heart. More than ever he desired to bring Sauron to an end so that his Arwen could return to his arms.

He caught Lana's eye. She blushed, but merely pushed a bowl of apples toward him.

"Good morning,"

He lifted a brow but said nothing more than, "Good morning."

Legolas stole her attention again by serving her a plate piled with cold cuts, cheese, and bread. Her eyes grew large.

"For goodness sake! Where I am supposed to put all this food?" She complained good-naturedly. Despite the words she eyed the cold ham with distinct interest.

"I merely desire for you to keep your strength up." Legolas replied innocently, though his lips quirked.

"And what am I supposed to do—carry that plate around all day for exercise? I bet I could bench press it and build some muscle." She laughed and shoved his shoulder playfully.

Gimli appeared then with Merry. The dwarf lifted a brow at them noticing at once the change in their behavior. It was like night and day. He merely shook his head at the oddity of these two. Out of sorts one day and the closest of friends the next. Watching them now though, he noticed that there was something more going on than before. He rubbed his beard thoughtfully but said nothing.

Merry, still quite in the dark about Legolas and Lana's relationship, greeted them flatly. He stared morosely around but didn't really perceive anything. It was plain to see that he missed his companion in mischief.

"Here Merry, I cannot eat all this. You'll have to help me." Lana said pushing the still mostly full plate of food towards him.

He sighed. "I don't know how you big folk survive on so little." He said, shaking his head despondently. "It's not natural."

Lana smiled at that. Deftly she drew the hobbit into a conversation on none other than food. As ever, he was game to speak on that subject. For a time at least it diverted his gloomy thoughts.

o0o

"I do not think you are well enough to ride, _Melethril."_ Legolas told her as they entered the royal stables.

Lana had expressed the desire to visit Hasufel and explained that she had promised the horse that she would visit him today. That was well enough, but when she said she wished to ride his protective instincts had stood straight up.

Lana had merely continued walking to the stables as if unconcerned by his apprehension.

The scent of fresh hay and horses tickled his nose as they walked down the main aisle. Arod saw them and immediately whinnied. They stopped by the gray stallion's stall. The spirited horse nosed Legolas excitedly. It had been several days since he had last seen the elf, and he was anxious to go out for a run.

When Legolas tried to follow Lana further down the aisle, Arod nipped his sleeve and shook his head snorting.

"Patience my friend. Perhaps we shall go out later today."

A groom, hearing this called over a stall wall. "You're welcome to take him, my lord. That one's been itchin' to stretch his legs. He's becoming a right nuisance."

Legolas replied something noncommittally, before murmuring to the stallion in Sindarin. He still wasn't sure about Lana riding. She was not the strongest rider, and her arrow injury continued pained her though she tried to hide it.

Coming up to Hasufel's stall he saw that she was already fussing over the stallion. He was nosing her hair as she set down a fresh bucket of oats. The gray and white cat appeared, sitting with ease on the narrow partition between the stalls.

Legolas smiled as he watched Lana with the animals. She was speaking to them in what he assumed was Italian. The melodic flow of the language was very different from his native Sindarin, but no less musical. Hearing her speak it fluidly made his ears tingle with delight.

She caught sight of him watching her and blushed, to his amusement.

"It would be nice to go riding," she mentioned, stroking Hasufel's large head as he snuffled her skirts. "I'm tired of being cooped up inside—and I think Hasufel is too."

"I do not believe that is wise, Cairnmel," Legolas said uncertainly.

Lana pressed her lips together. Hasufel distracted her as he began lipping the pocket in her skirt. She dipped into it and pulled out the apple she had brought for him. The stallion swiped it up quickly, crunching with delight.

"I need the practice," she reasoned. "Now is as good of a time as any." Then she gave him a coy look from under her lashes. "And it would give us a chance to get away from prying eyes." Her tone was suggestive.

Immediately a warm giddy feeling swirled up within Legolas. The look she gave him caused wild thoughts to appear in his head—like backing her into a dark corner of the stables and kissing her thoroughly. The idea startled him, and it made the tips of his ears turn pink.

Lana gave him a curious look, her lips curving as if she divined his thoughts. Clearing his throat, he patted Hasufel on the neck avoiding her eyes.

"Please?" She tried again sweetly.

He sighed, unable to resist her. "Very well. But no galloping, or cantering, or trotting." He ordered. "I do not desire for you to tear your stitches because of unnecessary movement."

Lana smiled broadly feeling very excited now. She knew that Legolas was being over protective, but instead of annoying her, she found it endearing. Although she wondered how long that would last. She was naturally independent, and while she loved Legolas deeply, she was used to making up her own mind. This would no doubt cause clashes in the future, but she didn't worry about it now.

Legolas saddled Hasufel for her and gave her the reins. She walked the stallion down the center aisle while he went to saddle Arod. In his eagerness to get out, Arod made things difficult for the elf—so much so that Legolas was tempted to forgo tack altogether. At last, he cinched the girth strap. Lana was already seated in her saddle by the time Legolas came out. She smiled down at him looking very pleased with herself. The smile weakened as Hasufel snorted and tossed his head.

"Are you certain you wish to ride on your own?" He wasn't too sure of this.

Lana nodded. "Yes," she glanced about to see who was nearby and then said lowly, "This is my world now, and I need to get better at riding."

He smiled at her bravery, and walked up, checking the girth strap one more time, and then put a hand on her knee.

"Remember, heels down."

He checked her hold on the reins and then nodded. Spritely he leapt onto Arod's saddle and with a gentle word he guided the frisky stallion down the road. He was eager to run and it took much convincing on Legolas' part to make him keep pace with Hasufel.

Glancing at Lana, he smiled at the concentration on her face. As if feeling his gaze she glanced up at him. Her lips curved, but she tensed as Hasufel's step became uneven. The chestnut was picking up on Arod's antics and an excited light came into his eyes. Legolas chided both horses and warned them to have a care.

People watched them as they rode down the main street, women and men pausing in their work while children called to each other and pointed behind the riders' backs.

Both were aware of the growing attention, and they each unconsciously sat a bit straighter in their saddles. By the time they cleared the gates they released a breath, and then laughed. Lana grimaced however.

"Are you well?" Legolas asked worriedly as she pressed a delicate hand to her side.

"Yeah, just hurting a bit. I'm fine though." Seeing the look in his eyes, she added, "Don't worry."

Legolas frowned but said nothing. Instead, he kept a steady eye on her. The sun shone brightly above them and the wind in the grasses felt liberating. They rode at an easy pace talking of inconsequential things.

Lana told him about her grandfather's thoroughbred ranch and how every summer for ten years she and her brother would go to a realm called Ireland. That was where they first learned to ride. But they stopped riding by the time they had turned thirteen.

"In fact, we had stopped going to Ireland consistently, and started splitting our summers between my father's relatives in Italy, and visiting other countries."

"You are very well traveled."

Lana nodded, her concentration on riding distracting her for a moment. "Yeah. Both my parents thought it was important for us to see as many places and people as we could. They both believed strongly in getting an education through firsthand experiences. There is no better way to understand a strange culture than immersing yourself in it."

Legolas could see the wisdom in that. His own father had been once overly protective of him. It wasn't until Legolas was allowed to leave the confines of his father's wood that he grew to better appreciate the world.

"Is your world so very different than Middle Earth?" He asked curiously.

They had spoken about the obvious differences before. The technology like automated carriages and flying machines featured often in her tales, but she hadn't told him much about the people that inhabited her world.

"It's hard to say," she said glancing at him. "I haven't seen all of Middle Earth yet, but…there aren't any elves, dwarves, or hobbits in my world. But I already told you that." She lifted a brow and smiled at him. "We have many races of Men, as you would call them. Really, the diversity is mind-blowing—even to me. Last I read there are over seven thousand different languages spoken in my world."

Legolas turned to her incredulously. "Seven thousand?"

She laughed outright at the look on his face. "Yeah, I know. But you can pretty much group the languages together by their root languages. Which means that you could, in theory, learn one language and have a fairly good idea of understanding several others."

She told him that what they called the Common Tongue here would be called English in her world, but it might as well be dubbed the Common Tongue. It was a language of power, and most people who learned a second language chose English.

"But Aidan and I grew up speaking a mixture of English, Italian, and Irish-Gaelic in our home. Our mother is Irish, and our father is Italian-American."

She went into detail explaining the complexities of citizenship and how she and Aidan were considered Americans first since they were born there, but that they both referred to themselves as Irish-Italian-Americans.

"We can claim both American and EU citizenship."

"And I thought elven heritages were complicated," Legolas sighed dramatically. "You mortals place much value in bloodlines."

Lana snorted. "Not really—at least not like in the old days. Society is pretty forward thinking when it comes to a lot of things. Citizenship has less to do with bloodlines than it does with other things, like where you were born and what your heritage is—who you marry."

Legolas tilted his head. "But you said that your brother and you can claim allegiance to whichever country takes your fancy. Is that not choosing bloodlines?"

Lana thought about it then shrugged. "I suppose; but it's different. It's less about bloodlines as it is connecting with people you relate to." She gave him a cheeky look. "For example, I could easily choose to marry someone from China or Kenya, and few would bat an eye. And then I could claim citizenship of either of those countries through my husband."

Legolas looked her over quite thoroughly in return. "And what about an elf?" He asked boldly, enjoying the shiver that ran through her. "What would your people say then?"

Lana had to remind herself to breathe. "Well, they would accept you but they might not believe you are an elf."

He lifted his brows. "And how would that work? I am an elf, therefore by accepting me they would be accepting that truth."

Lana exhaled. Perhaps having a battle of logic with him was not such a good idea.

"In theory, yes; but in actuality…well, like I said, there are no elves in my world. So they'd conclude that you were some kind of human. Even if we provided all the evidence most would be convinced that you were just pretending—acting."

Legolas snorted at that. The idea that anyone could mistake him for a mortal man was preposterous! Lana chuckled and shook her head at him.

"I wouldn't worry about it." She reached over to him, patting his arm.

They dismounted and turned the stallions loose. Once free they shot off over the plains running and playing like yearlings. Legolas pulled Lana into his embrace as they stretched out on the soft earth. She leaned against his chest listening to his heartbeat beneath her ear.

It was the most idyllic moment she had since coming to this world. Talking about home was a bitter mixture of sadness and fond memories.

"I wish I could show you my world." She murmured quietly. Her fingers instinctively followed the decoration on his tunic. "I would love to take you to California's sandy beaches. And you would love the redwood forests up in the north. And Italy," she sighed. "There are few places that can compare with Italy."

Legolas stroked her hair, fingering the loose strands that broke away from her braid.

"I am certain I would enjoy that very much."

He sensed her melancholy and wished to ease her heart. Lightly he kissed her forehead. "When the war is over, I will take you to Mirkwood," he said promised. "I would have you see the land of my birth."

He told her about the years before the forest grew dark and forbidding. There was light then, and much joy. The trees had sung happily and rejoiced in sun and rain. Those years had been some of the happiest in Legolas' memory. Back then his father smiled.

"And I am confident Gimli would have you see the Lonely Mountain as well." He added with mirth.

"As long as you come with me," she murmured lazily snuggling against him. "I would hate to be the tallest person there." Legolas laughed out loud at that. The sound of it lightened her heart.

o0o

They stayed out until well after midday. The stallions had run themselves out over the plains and were now content to eat the fresh spring grass that had started to sprout. They came easily when called by Legolas. It was a skill Lana was certain any horseman would envy.

Returning the stallions to the stables they curried them and provided them with fresh hay and water. The grooms, who thought it very good that these two foreigners valued horses as well, smiled.

Outside the stables a young voice caught their attention.

"Milady Lana! Milady Lana!"

They turned to see a rascally boy of about seven come running up. His bright blond hair was askew and he was puffing like a steam engine as he ran up to them.

Lana smiled brightly and held back a laugh. "Hello, Gram."

"Milady Lana," he huffed. "I'm so glad you're better! I was so worried you would_ die!"_ He said dramatically.

Lana hide her smile behind a hand before carefully kneeling down to the lad's level.

"That is very kind of you, Gram—a most noble thing too," she added, and Gram puffed up with self-importance. "I am feeling much better now. Thank you."

"Léofwyn—Léofwyn said that," he stuttered still trying to catch his breath. "Léofwyn said that you had orc poison in your blood!" He stared at her wide-eyed.

Lana affected a grave look for his benefit. "That's right, but I was healed by my friend Aragorn and an elf."

Gram looked up then at Legolas who was watching this exchange with much amusement.

"I thought you said you weren't a healer?" Gram burst out with consternation.

Lana glanced up at him too. Withholding his laughter Legolas replied. "That is true. It was a skilled healer from Rivendell who helped save the Lady Lana; not I."

Gram nodded as if this was all very logical. "Well, I'm glad." He declared. "Oh!" He said just remembering something. "I picked these for you!"

He thrust a bunch of plucked daisies at her. "Léofwyn said that ladies like flowers," he looked at somewhat wilted blooms dubiously.

Lana took the flowers carefully. "That's also true," she said and brought them to her nose and sniffed them with dramatic appreciation. "And these are quite beautiful. Thank you, Gram."

"You're welcome." He rocked back and forth on his heels suddenly shy. He peeped up at her, his face rapidly turning red, and Lana found it difficult to not grin at his adorable face.

"Will you…um…will you sing tonight? In the Hall?" He asked hopefully.

She looked at him in surprise. "Sing?" She repeated.

"Yes!" Gram burst out eagerly.

"Does the lady sing then, Master Gram?" Legolas asked, curious now. He glanced between the boy and Lana.

The lad nodded eagerly. "She sings like an elf!" He said with conviction. "Léofwyn thinks so too, and she knows lots of things so it must be true."

Legolas chuckled and he helped Lana rise. There was a light blush dusting her cheeks now.

"I'm not sure about that, Gram." She said a bit leery. Particularly with Legolas' peeked interest on her. But Gram looked suddenly put out.

"But, but I told the King that you sing very good!" He said.

Lana blinked at this. "King Théoden?"

He nodded eagerly. "Yes! I saw him this morning and I told him good morning and that he should have you sing tonight!"

"Ah…well…we'll see." Lana said uncertainty. "Is that Léofwyn over there?" She nodded towards the pretty red head that was walking from the well.

Gram looked and nodded. "Oh! Aye! Got to go, milady," he said suddenly and started to run to his friend. But he skidded to a halt, did a one-eighty and ran back to throw his arms around Lana's legs.

"I'm glad you're better!" He smiled up at her then ran off.

Lana smirked shaking her head. She caught Legolas' glance. "What?"

Legolas chuckled. "It seems I have competition for your affections." He slipped an arm around her waist and kissed her cheek not caring who saw them.

She shook her head bemusedly. "Well he _did_ bring me flowers." She brought the blooms to her nose and eyed him from over the petals.

Legolas laughed. "He is really taken by you," he with a grin. "I can understand why," he whispered in her ear as they walked.

Lana blushed furiously and pushed him away. He laughed causing several people to turn their heads. Lana's breath hitched in her throat at the sound as well. There was nothing better than hearing an elf laugh so freely.

"There you two are!"

They both looked to see Merry watching them. "Aragorn is looking for you Legolas."

The elf nodded. "Then I shall go to him now." He turned to Lana. "Go and rest. I shall come for you before the evening meal."

Lana smiled but shook her head. "I'll meet you the Hall."

He nodded and gave her a heated look that promised a kiss later. Lana forced herself not to blush. She watched him ascend the steps on light feet to the Golden Hall. He nodded to the curious guards at the door and disappeared inside. Feeling eyes upon her, Lana saw Merry watching her with interest.

Clearing her throat imperceptibly, she spoke. "How are you, Merry?" She hiked up the steps and sat next to the hobbit.

Merry looked at her shrewdly as his hairy feet dangling over the edge of the portico. Then he sighed. His eyes were sad as he looked out over the plains.

"I'm not myself, I'm afraid." He said.

She put a hand on his shoulder. "It's ok. We can't always be ourselves."

He looked down at his hands then up at her. "He's gone," he said looking very lost and alone. "Like Frodo, and Sam. And I'm left waiting behind."

Lana pulled the dejected hobbit into a side hug. She knew how he felt. Everyone was leaving, going off to war and that great Unknown. She didn't know what was worse, the going or the staying behind and watching everyone else leave. Either way, it left an uncomfortable knot in her middle

"We'll see them all again," she said confidently. Her faith in love had grown exponentially overnight and her new outlook on life was more idealistic than usual. It made it easier to dismiss the worries that were barking for her attention.

"How can you say that and believe it?" Merry asked.

She looked into his eyes. "Because," and she paused not sure what she wanted to say. "Because to consider otherwise is unthinkable. And, as ridiculous as it sounds, I believe in the power of positive thinking." She said, give him a soft half smile. "I heard once that if you visualize where and what you want to be, it will make it so." She looked out over the land of Rohan.

Merry nodded mulling those words over.

Lana stared out over the rolling hills and the snowcapped mountains. Her mind sifted through memories—of who she was and who she had grown to be. What would she be like in the future? She was greedy for experiences. Beyond the horizon, new lands lay hidden from her eyes, and her deeply hibernating wanderlust turned and stretched. Those lands beckoned to her. It was as if by accepting her fate here with Legolas, she was finally becoming herself again. But damn it all if the timing wasn't the worst!

She glanced sideways at Merry. "I have a feeling that things are really going to suck from here on out, and that's why we have to make the best with what we have."

Merry grunted, and smiled slightly at her odd phrase. By now he and the rest of the remaining Fellowship were used to her strange slang. The hobbit sat with her mostly in silence. They remained together until Éowyn appeared and invited Lana inside to bathe before dinner.

* * *

_Enough fluff? Surely not! _

_As always thanks for reading._


	41. Music Is The Food of Love

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.**

I don't own anything of Tolkien's Middle Earth. I just play there.

This is a music chapter! Details on the music will be at the end. This is essentially part two of the previous chapter. The original was too long for the site to handle, hence the split into two chapters.

Enjoy the fluff while it lasts!

* * *

**Chapter 40: Music Is the Food of Love**

Lana followed Éowyn chatting amiably much like she had with Merry. She was in too good of a mood to let the Shield Maiden's laconic behavior bother her. That did not mean, however, that she was unaware that their conversation was rather one-sided.

Though they walked shoulder to shoulder, Éowyn seemed to hold herself with a supercilious attitude. Lana couldn't tell if it was intentional or just her immaturity. It didn't really matter in the end. Éowyn was the king's niece and by all intents and purposes Lana's superior—at least in social standing.

Their friendship was still tenuous at times. Lana wondered if was because they were too much alike. Not that she thought herself as reserved as the Lady of Rohan, nor was she as mannered, but she sometimes sensed something familiar in the woman—like a kindred spirit. Perhaps if Éowyn didn't take herself so seriously then conceivably they could be closer.

Possibly it was her age, Lana then considered. Éowyn was younger than her by several years. She knew from experience that the youth often put on a more mature mien, or at least what a young person might think is mature. Lana used to be the same way. Her parents had even commented on her seriousness as a child; but the older she got the more carefree she became.

She had dropped the severe and often angst-ridden attitude that marked her teens. As she had grown and was thrown into more stressful situations, Lana learned that a smile and a sense of humor were invaluable assets to have. And now that she felt like she belonged here, her spirit was liberated.

_Besides…life is to be_ lived.

"May I ask you something?" Éowyn said opening a door to a recently prepped guest room.

Lana nodded cordially.

"Are you and the elf, Legolas, are you two…" her voice faded and Lana watched as the woman tried to find a way to phrase the question on her mind. "Are you two courting?"

Lana smiled softly at her fumbling. "We have only just recently professed our love for each other," she answered carefully. "For now, we are just enjoying the time we have before the war parts us."

Éowyn's expression shifted into one of surprise. Her powder-blue eyes became very round as her assumptions were refuted. "You will not go with them?"

Lana shook her head and allowed herself to explore the room so as to hide her face. She didn't wish to think of the pending separation—or its affect on her blossoming relationship with Legolas. So instead she picked things up idly and set them down; anything to distract her mind from unpleasant thoughts.

"I can't," she said at last, gliding her fingers over the polished wooden chest of drawers. "I'm injured for starters," she turned to face the pale woman. "And I'm not a very good warrior—which is why I got injured in the first place."

Éowyn tilted her head slightly. "Do you no longer wish to fight then?"

Lana sighed, hooding her eyes slightly. It was a valid question; and one that she rather not consider just then.

"I don't know what I want," she admitted after a long moment. "Only just that…that I don't want to be separated from my friends. But, I would be a liability more than an asset." She grimaced.

To her surprise, Éowyn touched her arm briefly. "I don't agree. You are brave and you have a strong heart." For the first time ever, Éowyn dropped her gaze first. "I envy you that. Your strength. Your hope."

Lana frowned slightly. "What do you mean? You're much stronger than me; you run this entire household almost singlehandedly; you guided your people to safety on a dangerous rode; and you took care of a crazy woman who entered a battle and nearly got herself killed." She gave her a self-deprecating smile.

Éowyn's lips quirked a little. "Perhaps. But those things do not win renown." She said broodingly.

Understanding dawned on Lana. She looked upon the young woman with new eyes. Éowyn desired to do great things, and be a hero. There was little if any praise for those who simply did their duty. It was not like her world where people were recognized for just doing their job. Only spectacular acts out of the ordinary won notoriety here. Lana frowned slightly. She studied the Éowyn intently, her mind putting things together.

"Well, there are all kinds of renown. Sometimes the biggest heroes are those that remain unsung." She said smiling with assurance. "Back at home, it was my job to find those kind of heroes and give voice their stories."

Éowyn looked up at her with a new interest. However she didn't ask the questions that were surely on her mind. Instead she said, "There is a tradition among my people, that when war comes the women ride out with the men to wish them farewell. When that time comes, you should come with me."

Lana observed Éowyn, studying her face. _What things she could do if only people would only let her_, she mused. She nodded though.

"I would like that," was all she replied.

A silence fell between them for a few moments until Éowyn spoke again. "I've been told that you have a talented singing voice."

Lana clicked her tongue and flapped a hand. "Was it that boy Gram who told you that?"

Éowyn's lips curved. "Aye. He told my uncle. The lad is known for being discerning, despite his age."

Lana snorted and shook her head. "He asked me if I was going to sing tonight."

Éowyn looked at her inquiringly. "Would you?"

Lana shrugged. She felt suddenly cornered. How was it that all of a sudden people were asking her to sing? She should have never opened her mouth! Damn kids!

"I don't know," Lana replied, wishing to get out of it. "I have nothing prepared…and I'm not sure what people will think of my singing."

"Haven't you noticed?" Éowyn replied good-naturedly. "The Rohirrim are a musical people. We love songs and tales. Especially new ones."

Lana exhaled through her nose, unconvinced. "I'll think about it."

Éowyn smiled and then left saying the green dress she wore previously was in the wardrobe. Shortly there after, some men of the house brought in hot water to fill the copper tub that was behind a folding screen.

As she watched the laborious process Lana wished she had something better to offer them than just a simple thank you. Taking a bath in Middle Earth was such an ordeal. She missed the simplicity of the bathing pools in Lothlórien; but Edoras did not have any hot springs.

She lounged gratefully in the tub savoring the way the warm water soothed her skin. Her arrow wound was healing, but she knew it would be several weeks before she could move without pain. Still she was lucky. None of her internal organs appeared to be punctured—no small miracle there. And there was no infection, thank God.

When she thought about the battle she cringed still. She did not like to recall it at all. But she knew with certainty that only more lay ahead. _War breeds war_, she mused morosely.

Battles would be waged and they would be bloody. War always was but there was still something particularly gut-wrenching about how visceral the battles were in this world. Unbidden the faces of the men she tried to save at Helm's Deep marched past her mind's eye. Their cries still haunted the shadows of her dreams. She frowned thinking of the bloodshed that was coming.

And her dear ones would be in it.

She recalled Legolas' words to her: _Will you let me fight for you? For our future together?_

As poetic as those words were, Lana was not fooled. She could very well lose Legolas, though she had full confidence in his abilities as a warrior. A smile touched her as she thought about her elf. She still could hardly believe that he loved her. Where had all her reservations gone? When had her heart changed?

She shuffled through the memories like a deck of cards, starting with Moria and ending with this day. It was all so obvious to her now. But love is blind—and an unwilling mind often out rules a willing heart. At last her heart and mind had reconciled.

Her feelings were effervescent like champagne and she allowed her senses to get drunk off it. Permitting her mind to wander down all the potentials the future could hold for them, she felt her heart flutter. The way before them was unwritten, and it was exciting. This Unknown she was happy to entertain.

Lana knew without a doubt that Legolas would love her and only her. Aragorn had explained that well enough. And this meant that the elf would probably seek to strengthen their relationship. Drawing circles in her bath water, Lana closed her eyes and let her imagination run wild. Marriage, possibly children, and a life of endless possibilities lay before them—_if_ they survived this war.

She flushed hotly at the idea of being married. For so long she had resisted the notion, and now here she was imaging her own wedding! She had to laugh at herself even though her cheeks were glowing hotly. How could she even be _thinking_ of such a thing so soon? She blamed it on the female psyche. No matter how hard she resisted the stereotypes she was still a woman in her prime—and unconsciously she was on the look out for a potential mate. She wanted to smack herself, but 200,000 years of biological instinct was just something that modern humans couldn't get rid of.

What would it be like? She wondered as she languidly ran the soap bar over her body. Would their potential wedding be completely elven? Or would it be a blend of both their cultures? Her mind played through various scenarios, indulging in asinine ideas of bridesmaids' dresses, colors, and cake options. Did elves even eat cake at their weddings?

She frowned as she recalled that Legolas was a prince. She sat up.

"Well shit! That would mean that I…" she laughed, though it was more with surprise than with humor. "Me—a _princess_. What would Aidan make of that?" She snorted.

And then her heart abruptly sank. She would never see him again. It wasn't just a matter of not being able to get home—it was the fact that she no longer wanted to leave. Not if it meant leaving Legolas behind.

She sighed letting the soap go, and she watched it bob on the surface of the water.

_I'm sorry Aidan. I wish I could tell you…I wish you could be here with me…_

Her dear twin brother was beyond her reach though. Putting thoughts of him aside, she quickly finished bathing and set aside all thoughts of weddings. It was highly premature thinking after all—particularly for _her_.

Lana discovered her backpack and weapons had been set outside her door. Quickly bringing them inside she prudently set her weapons on top of the dresser. Then she eagerly peeked into her cosmetic bag and sorted through her jewelry.

There wasn't much and she sighed as she thought about the family heirlooms that she would never see again: Her great-grandmother's earrings on her father's side, and the gorgeous turquoise necklace from her mother's great aunt. There was also the diamond bracelet that her mother bought her upon graduating with her master's. Her heart dipped again.

She hadn't really thought about her parents much. It was Aidan who she was closest to. But truth be told, Lana adored her mother. She was radiant and so intelligent. The woman had a Ph.D. for goodness sake! It hurt to think that she would never see her again. She wondered what she would have thought of Legolas.

_She would like him,_ she declared. _She would have approved._ Her father though, not so much. Shaking away all thoughts of home and family she went back to perusing her jewelry.

What she had with her was not a terrible selection by any means, but many of the pieces were modern looking—or at least they would look highly out of place in Rohan. She tried things on and then took them off indecisively

"Ah fuck it, I don't care." She finally said aloud and she pulled out her present favorites: a pair of elegant art deco earrings made of bronze, nacre, and colored glass; a few of her favorite rings including the large silver and turquoise triangle; and several silver and bronze bangles. Her delight was visible as she smiled at her reflection.

For once she actually _wanted_ to look beautiful. Despite her pragmatic nature, Lana did enjoy looking good. One of her guilty pleasures back home had been fashion, and she would flip through magazines like _Vogue_ and_ In Style_ while on a plane to Kabul or Istanbul. She secretly lusted after all shoes by Jimmy Choo—particularly the black pumps with the red soles. Maybe one day she could introduce some new styles into Middle Earth's medieval wardrobes. She smirked.

Brushing her hair to a high gloss, she took care to arrange her it so that it complimented her face. She put the white daisies from Gram in the braided twists along with the blue flowers that were in small vase near the bed. Half of it was twisted up into a boho bun and the rest was left free.

Deciding to be a bit bold she applied a hint of makeup, lining her eyes and putting a rouge stain on her lips. She made a sultry pin-up face in the mirror then laughed at herself.

"I will make it a trend yet!" She declared ridiculously to her reflection. Then kissing the mirror cheekily, she winked at herself and left the room in high spirits.

o0o

It was still early, but Lana managed to discover the musicians. They were already setting up in the Hall near Théoden's seat.

She had been waffling on the subject of singing. Even now she felt her heartbeat increase as she walked towards the players. They greeted her warmly. As with most musicians they were charming and very easy to speak to. Apparently they had been forewarned of her coming and were delighted to include her in their ensemble.

Not giving herself time to think, Lana went through the songs she had in mind. It was with great relief that the musicians seemed to pick up the music quickly; especially since she had no sheet music to give them. _But I don't think they even _use_ sheet music here._ That was a curious line of thought that she hoped to pursue in the future.

They discussed music until the hall began to fill. There was even a bit of time to practice some of the songs she had in mind, which put her at greater ease. At least she knew her accompaniment wouldn't let her down.

The musicians offered to let her play an instrument but she quickly declined. It had been far too long since she last picked up any kind of instrument. Her brother had all the talent when it came to that area. Lana had learned the violin as a child and had attempted the guitar as a teenager, but the closest thing to the modern six-string American guitar was a medieval looking lute. There wasn't a chance in hell she would even attempt that.

She smiled at the musicians promising to find them after the meal. Her heart fluttered in anticipation. What would everyone think? At home her friends and family all loved her voice; and so did Gram and his friends, but…she couldn't help but feel rather anxious. It had been a terribly long time since she last sang for an audience!

Her mind was elsewhere as her eyes scanned the room for familiar faces. It was then that she ran into Éomer. The Shield Maiden's brother and Lana had never been properly introduced before. He looked her over with something akin to surprise and then appreciation.

"Your pardon, my lady," he said in a rich timbre. "But I don't believe we've been introduced." He gallantly swept up her hand. "Might I have your name?"

Lana, still in high—if slightly nervous—spirits, smiled cordially. "I'm Lana. Lana Rey."

A light of recognition lit his dark eyes. "Ah, so you are the woman that my sister speaks so highly of." He looked her over again with a gaze that was undeniably male. "She failed to mention your beauty, though. I am Éomer, Third Marshal of the Mark."

He kissed her hand, eyes holding hers. Lana felt her cheeks warm. Sometimes all this chivalry was a bit much. Imperceptibly she leaned back. A movement caught her attention. She saw Legolas enter the Hall. Their eyes met immediately, and her gaze softened even as her skin tingled. This happened all in a matter of seconds.

Focusing back on Éomer she said, "The pleasure is mine, my lord. But I think I have you at a bit of a disadvantage." She pulled her hand from his and held both of hers behind her back out of reach. "You see, I know who you are, and in fact I saw you before ever coming to Edoras."

Éomer lifted a brow. "Indeed? And when was this?"

Lana thought trying to count the days. "Less than two weeks ago, I think. You discovered my companions out on the plains, and you gave them horses."

Surprise filled his eyes again. "You were there with Lord Aragorn?"

She nodded. "I was hidden at the time, but I saw you."

He chuckled. "A shame then to only have met now."

Lana tilted her head giving him a polite nod. Her eyes went to Legolas who appeared by her side.

"My lady," the elf said, his tone holding many layers beyond politeness.

She smiled warmly at him. "Legolas," she replied, his name was like a song on her lips. "I was just meeting Éomer properly for the first time."

Legolas turned to the Marshal and the two males greeted each other with a warrior's hand grasp.

"I did not know that you and your companions traveled with such a flower." Éomer said politely, but there was a tone of curious probing.

"Her safety is paramount," Legolas returned smoothly. "It would not be wise to let strangers know of her."

Éomer chuckled. "Truly! It would be a shame for her to be plucked too soon."

Lana lifted a brow at their remarks. A flame of indignation sparked in her mind, but she clamped down on it firmly. Yet even as she mentally groused, she sensed Legolas stiffening next to her. Deciding to send a clear message before a battle of machismo began, she leaned into the elf and put her hand on his chest.

"Shall we sit? I think I smell the food coming."

Legolas' eyes softened as he looked at her. "Aye." He then nodded to Éomer. "Until later, Marshal."

Legolas threaded Lana's arm through his and led her away. Lana gave Éomer a polite smile and left securely tucked into the elf's side. She then had to resist the urge to laugh. All this male macho-posturing was utterly vacuous. Some things remained the same no matter where you were.

Sensing her amusement, Legolas gave her a questioning look. She shook her head before speaking.

"You,"

His brows lifted. "Me?"

She nodded. "Have I told you that I adore you?" She whispered in undertone so none but he could hear.

His heart sang and he brought her hand to his lips. "No more than I you," he replied. And then adding he said, _"Nad ancalima loth virond. Garin boe hen nín bo le." You are the brightest flower in the Hall. I shall have to keep my eye on you._

Lana laughed. _"Leth laew gar…"_ she frowned trying to think of the word in Sindarin and then shrugged. "Thorns." _Some flowers have…_

Legolas chuckled and surreptitiously squeezed her waist as he led her to a table. Gimli and Merry were already sitting and drinking. The hobbit looked much more chipper than before and Lana had to wonder how much he had to drink already.

Aragorn joined them shortly thereafter. She had not seen much of the Ranger since accepting Legolas' love and returning it. In fact, she hadn't seen much of _anyone_ other than Legolas. Deciding to play it cool she engaged the others in light discussion, talking a lot but not really saying anything.

All the men at the table looked at Lana in nothing short of shock when she asked for an ale. Apparently it was not a drink of ladies. She snorted at that assumption. Had any of them been with her during college they would have known that she could hold her own. _Hell, _journalists_ drink more than college students!_ But she thought better of saying that out loud.

She countered their shock by saying that she was hardly a proper lady by any stretch of the imagination; and that her heritage guaranteed that she had the stomach for all kinds of drink.

This led to Merry questioning her about her family history and soon they all knew more about American, Irish, and Italian drinking predilections than any of them would ever want to know. Merry, however, declared that her kin sounded like a very fine people indeed and that he would be honored to drink with them.

The image of Merry playing beer pong or flip cup with her college friends forced her to quickly hide a smirk in her drink. She eyed the hobbit's rosy complexion and glassy eyes. By this time, he had already consumed three pints, which was an incredible amount for one of his stature. Merry became even more animated as another pint was set before him.

Lana glanced between her companions wondering if they would be forced to cut the hobbit off. Then mentally she shrugged. She knew nothing of hobbit alcohol tolerances and was in too good of a mood to seek to squash someone else's. She was certain if action was required, Aragorn would see to it.

The Hall became more raucous as more people entered. The musicians started playing music, and the denizens began to sing along to songs about their land in their native tongue.

Lana listened avidly, enjoying the sound and feel of the music. Aside from sad laments and snippets of ethereal singing in Lothlórien, this was her first full taste of music in Middle Earth. The sounds reminded her of something between folk music from the Nordic and Celtic countries mixed with medieval sounds. The songs followed simple patterns and she was able to pick out reels, jigs, and ballads based on counts alone.

The joyful refrains were easily learned even though Lana didn't understand the words. She caught Éowyn's eye from across the room. The lady glanced at the musicians and then back at her, a brow raised in a mock challenge.

Lana bit her lip and gave an imperceptible shrug. With so many people in the Hall, she felt her nerves twisting into a mess of acid in her stomach. She wanted them to have a bit more to drink before she dared to open her mouth in front of them.

_Hell, _I_ need a bit more!_ She thought, and lifted her mug of ale to her lips.

She realized that Legolas had been right and that the alcohol here was relatively weak. Judging by the amount of empty tankards around the room Lana was convinced that this was probably a good thing.

Another hour passed and the Hall started to gradually thin out as some of the occupants made their way to their beds. Lana watched the people with interest noting those who were married, the secret lovers, and the ones who wished to be lovers. It was as if being in love made her more perceptive of the love in others. It was curious observational power.

She leaned back against Legolas, half listening to Gimli and Merry's bantering. Aragorn was up speaking with Éomer who had joined their table. Éowyn stood by them, offering her thoughts to what ever they were discussing. The Shield Maiden's eyes seemed to sparkle but Lana passed it off as the firelight gleaming in her eyes.

Legolas fingers were rubbing a soothing but distracting pattern on her thigh. She felt drowsy but content.

Without warning Gram appeared and tugged on her hand. "Milady Lana!" He said in a voice perhaps a bit too loud for being inside.

Rousing, she smiled at the boy.

"Milady Lana! You haven't sang yet!" He reminded her. "You will sing, won't you?"

Legolas was chuckling behind her, making her want to smack him lightly. Gimli and Merry observed this exchange with amused expectation. Lana also caught Aragorn, Éomer, and Éowyn watching avidly as well. Mentally she groaned. The boy was loud enough to wake the dead!

"Well, I suppose I can sing _one_ song," she mumbled to him.

Gram grinned excitedly and dashed over to his friends who had been watching him with attentiveness, and were now whispering furiously between themselves. Taking a reinforcing swing of ale, she pushed herself upright.

"Seems I have been summoned," she told them theatrically, putting a hand on the table to steady herself.

Perhaps there was a bit more kick in the ale than she originally thought. Smiling through the alcohol tinge fog, she gave Legolas a lingering glance. Then she made her way self-consciously to the musicians. She could feel the ale sloshing between her ears and she prayed she would remember the words to her song. The musicians greeted her warmly and teased her saying that they were certain she had lost her nerve.

"I still might!" She told them, reaching for a nearby pint, not caring whose it was.

Perching on a table facing towards the musicians, Lana angled herself enough to face both her audience and the players. Those nearby saw this new development and perked up.

_Here goes nothing._ She nodded to the musicians. They started strumming out the first chords of the song she had taught them. As the familiar music filtered through her ears Lana smiled. Her foot counted the beats and she felt a sudden warm nostalgia hug her. Then she parted her lips and sang.

The notes rang clear and true, spreading like a warm wave throughout the room. The hum of conversation died down as the people turned and listened with interest to the never before heard song.

_Ged a sheòl mi air m'aineol_

_Cha laigh smalan air mi'inntinn_

_Ged a sheòl mi air m'aineol_

_'S ann à Boston a sheòl sinn_

_Dol air bhoidse chun na h-Ìnnsinn_

_Ged a sheòl mi air m'aineol_

_Cha laigh smalan air mi'inntinn_

_Ged a sheòl mi air m'aineol_

She smiled at the musicians who joined her for the second refrain. Their Gaelic pronunciation wasn't too bad—although musicians usually have a talent for languages, she mused.

The song was a playful one about travel and the hardships of sailing to foreign lands. It seemed a fitting song for her predicament. And it was a song that she _loved_. It was one her mother taught her and it brought up pleasant memories of hiding out from the Irish rain in her grandfather's house in Kildare. Golden images of whitewashed cottages and beautiful manor houses tucked amid emerald green hills—the landscape all folded up like a leporello.

As her eyes wandered over the crowded hall, she felt more than saw the audience's pleasure. Her voice swelled feeding off of the positive reaction that hung in the air. She looked then to Théoden King, who sat smiling at his table fingers tapping in time with the rhythm, to Éowyn—her face rapt in delight, and to Éomer, who's smile was deep and warm.

Gram and his little friends had gathered close to listen better, their bright eyes alight with wonder and delight. The rest of the Rohirrim were completely spellbound. Éowyn was right: they did have a thirst for music. Before long she caught sight of feet tapping in time and heads bobbing along with her voice. A few bolder souls even tried to mimic the refrain.

Last of all her eyes settled on her companions who were staring at her with nothing short of shock. Delight was there too, but their surprise was written all over their faces. When her eyes met Legolas', Lana felt an enfranchisement of her heart. She sang all the more sweetly as if the song was for him alone.

When she finished the entire feast hall erupted into boisterous cheering. Lana ducked her head blushing furiously. How long had it been since she truly lifted her voice in joy? It was well before arriving in Middle Earth. She had forgotten how much she loved it. A familiar sensation of exquisite delight wrapped around her soul.

Of course her family and friends had always praised her voice, but to have _these_ people in _this_ alien land applaud her and demand more… For the first time Lana felt truly accepted and a little less foreign.

_And that is the power of music,_ she thought tipsily.

Mind pleasantly numbed by alcohol, she happily capitulated to the people's demands for more. She sang traditional Irish folk songs, she sang songs from old Americana, and she even sang a couple of modern songs that she had done covers for back home.

Despite the growing hour, she was content to sing with the musicians until they were the last to leave. Her companions had waited, eager to speak with her.

"Why didn't you ever tell us you could sing, lass?" Gimli chided affectionately. "A voice like that should be lifted in song more often!"

Lana flushed but smiled brightly. "There hasn't been much of an occasion for singing," she answered, shrugging.

"Pippin really missed out!" Merry declared. "He would have loved this. You should come and sing at the Green Dragon back in the Shire!"

When Aragorn spoke his eyes were sparkling. "A woman of many hidden talents," he kissed her hand. "I wonder what else are you skilled at, my lady?"

His teasing remark earned him a dry look, but her lips quirked giving her away. He laughed. Legolas said nothing but his eyes told her everything she needed to know. A shiver ran down her spine at the look in his luminous gaze.

At last, exhaustion caught up with her. She bid her companions a good night and left, arm entwined with Legolas'. He said he would walk her to where she was staying.

"Éowyn found a room for me here in the Hall," she informed him as they moved to the corridor. "So now I will be closer to you," she hugged nearer to him now that they were out of sight of prying eyes.

His seemingly ever-present smile grew and he drew her in, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. Lana yawned then, causing Legolas to chuckle.

"I would have taken you to bed sooner, but you put a spell on me with your voice," he said tilting her head up with his fingers.

She smiled lazily up at him. _"I'll put a spell on you,"_ she sang, _"And now you're mine!"_

Legolas laughed low in his throat. He paused abruptly and drew her into a shadowed alcove. Pulling her against him, his fingers found her chin and he tilted her lips up to his. Without hesitation she kissed him back, her hands sliding up his chest.

With his tongue he traced the line of her lips before delving into the sweet recess of her mouth. Her tongue slid over his in welcome. He felt one of her hands move to brush back his hair, and his breathing became erratic as her fingers then traced the curve of his ear. A great shudder erupted throughout his body as she reached the tip.

He felt her smile against his lips.

"Do you like that?" She asked in a low sultry voice that nearly did him in.

In answer he drew her to him only to reverse their positions and press her against the wall, molding his body to hers. The heat that began to pool in his loins drove him almost to the edge of his senses. Leaving her lips he began trailing kisses along her jaw and down her neck. She moaned in heady delight, her fingers finding his hair.

Sharply he drew back with a gasp. He rested his head on her shoulder, trying to get his breath under control. He felt like his heart would break the bars of his ribcage.

Lana smoothed his hair gently in a repetitive motion that felt entirely too good. Legolas closed his eyes concentrating on the pleasurable sensation while trying to bring himself under control.

_"Goheno nin,"_ he murmured softly.

"For what?" She replied in an equally breathless voice.

He inhaled deeply then released the breath. "I let my passions get away from me."

Lana lifted his head so that she could look into his eyes. He saw that they were dark, much darker than normal, the vivid blue appearing almost navy from the shadows they stood in. But in their depths was a fire that his spirit yearned for.

"Don't apologize…never apologize for that." She held his gaze then, and placed a chaste kiss on his lips.

Lifting her eyes back to his she smiled slowly. "You will come to discover that I am very sensual," she murmured, making his body quiver in impatient anticipation. "I shan't hold back," she whispered.

Her breath made his already pulsing heart leap. He buried his fingers into her hair, gripping it.

_"Aiya, Melethril!_ You know not what you do to me!"

She lifted an elegant brow.

"Don't I?"

* * *

_Thoughts? Good fluff? Reviews feed the muse! _

_**The music:** _

_The song Lana sings is _Ged a Sheòl Mi Air M' Aineol. _If you go to Youtube and search Julie Fowlis, there is a video of a session with her and some musicians. That is the version of this song that I pictured in my head. _

_As for the brief _I'll put a spell on you _bit, _ _I was thinking of the film _Hocus Pocus_. Youtube _Hocus Pocus "I'll put a spell on you" _with Bette Midler. It's a brilliant scene and a great movie. _

_As always thanks for reading. _


	42. Practice

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.**

I don't own anything of Tolkien's Middle Earth. I just play there.

* * *

**Chapter 41: Practice**

The beacons remained unlit. Aragorn paced and brooded. Théoden King remained intractable and would not commit to anything. This, more than anything, caused the Ranger to become withdrawn and exasperated.

Lana, observing all of this from her position as a foreigner and complete outsider saw both sides of the argument. Théoden had the right to feel less than civil towards Gondor. It was the truth when the king said that the southern realm had failed to send aid when Rohan's need was at its greatest.

But was it not also true that they were bound by years of fealty and common courtesy to respect the alliance between them and the White City? And would it not make Rohan look all the better to come riding to Gondor's aid and thus proving that they were the more morally upright country?

She had spoken to numerous Rohirrim about what they thought of their king's decision. Few had anything critical to say, and she wondered at that. Lana didn't have the answers, but it troubled her to see Aragorn fret.

She had asked if he wanted to practice sword fighting with her so he could distract himself. The look he gave her said absolutely not.

"You are still healing and in no condition for such exertion."

She couldn't argue there, but it gave her a new idea. After riding Hasufel around the large hill that made up Edoras she had shifted to face Legolas.

"I want to practice my archery today."

He turned to her in surprise, words failing him.

"My hand is more than healed and I need the practice," she stated logically.

The elf was already shaking his head in negation. What was she thinking? Just the thought of her being near arrows made his heart lurch. It brought about all the unpleasant feelings of how close he had come to losing her. Irrationally he wanted to keep her away from all weapons. His protective instincts soared to new levels.

"Nay, Cairnmel. You are not ready for such things."

Already prepared for this response, she replied easily. "Not so. Archery is not as physical as swordplay," she reasoned, and seeing his brow arching skeptically she pressed ahead. "I won't be running around or dodging blows. Just practicing the basics—which I sorely need to do."

Legolas frowned and looked between Arod's ears.

"You know I need the practice, Aureos," she said trying to sweeten him with his nickname. "After Helm's Deep, it's all the more clear how terrible of an archer I am. I _need_ to get better."

He shot her sideways glance. "Tell me, why does it sound like you are planning on entering battle again?"

"I'm not," she replied rather tartly. "But as everyone is so keen to remind me, a war is coming. If you and Aragorn and Gimli are gone in some distant battle and I am stuck here on my own, then I need to be able to defend myself."

Legolas opened his mouth to argue but then snapped it shut. She was right, but it galled him. He had been telling himself that she would be safe here, but that was not entirely true. While the main battles would be fought before Gondor, Rohan would not remain unaffected.

And if Théoden did decide in the end to ride to Gondor's aid then most of Rohan's warriors would be gone. The best and strongest would be off in the war with few left behind to defend the city. And if the worst should happen…

Legolas set his jaw, not allowing his mind to finish that train of thought. Lana's hand came to rest on his arm as she leaned from her saddle.

"I know you do not want to think about this—I don't either," she assured him. "But the only thing we can do is prepare. Don't you want me to have a fighting chance?"

Legolas turned to her swiftly, piercing her with his gaze. "Of course, _Melethril_. But the thought of you battling on your own for your life—you know not the terror that fills me at the mere thought." He covered her hand with his. "I would have you safe, far away from all this."

She held his gaze. "But that is not possible. So, will you help me prepare, _meleth nín?"_

Legolas closed his eyes and shuddered as she said those two words in Sindarin. Why did they have to be so bittersweet? Looking at her once more he nodded.

o0o

The afternoon was spent on the practice field behind the Golden Hall. Many warriors were training, sparring with swords and spears. Those who knew how to shoot were making good use of the targets.

Merry tagged along, interested in observing not only Lana but also the Rohirrim warriors at work. Gimli followed too, curious to see the ax skills of these horse riders.

Lana felt many eyes turn toward them as they came onto the field. Lifting her chin she tucked away her nervousness. She adopted a professional mask she had often used in her work. There were no women on the field and though there seemed to be a hint of some equality between the sexes in Rohan, the blatant staring made Lana revise her assumptions.

This time, Legolas was not as reticent about placing his hands on her and moving her into the correct position. He examined her critically with a warrior's eye and was relentless. He made certain that she was perfect. If he could not be here to protect her himself, then he would be damn sure that his lessons stuck with her.

"Remember, your posture ensures your success," he said, his tone more martial than in the past. "If you practice incorrectly it will show in battle. Hone the correct skills now so they are natural."

He gave her little quarter, making sure that every little thing was correct. It was the opposite of the lessons in Lothlórien. Yet Lana did not complain. She could feel his worry swirling like an undercurrent beneath the warrior mask he had adopted now. However, as he continued to hover over her, and grill her for every minute mistake she finally had to tell him to back off.

There was a crack in his stoic mask. _"Goheno nin, Melethril,"_ he murmured.

She gave him a reassuring look. "Don't worry—I can handle it, but cut me just a little slack here."

It turned out that her greatest obstacle was the wind. As the day warmed the air picked up and started blowing about the top of the city. Lana swore as it stole another one of her shots.

"Ah fuck!" She groused as the arrow went toppling over the edge of the hill.

She glanced back at Legolas who merely nodded for her to continue. He gave her a tip to help combat the wind, but he refused to let her stop training. In battle conditions were rarely ideal. This was good practice for her.

"Is it necessary to drill the lass so hard?" Gimli asked from where he leaned against the low stone wall behind the practice fields.

Legolas did not turn from his observation. "War looms ever closer. It will come for us all," was all he said.

Gimli rubbed his beard unsure of the elf's reasons.

"But Lana will be safe here in Edoras won't she?" Merry said between bites of an apple.

Legolas bowed his head imperceptibly. That is what he wished to believe.

"I know not, Merry."

His eyes ran critically over Lana's form, checking her posture for flaws. She was already doing much better. Battle had honed her dedication. He could tell that she was determined to succeed. His heart lifted knowing that she wasn't completely defenseless. And if were there not such a dark future ahead of them, he would have taken more pleasure in her practice.

For now, he was resigned. The only thing he could do was prepare Lana as best as he could and pray that she never saw battle again.

His eyes scanned her over assessing, judging…admiring. Despite his somber mood, he could not help but delight in how the mountains silhouetted her figure. The blue-gray dress was pressed against her legs, fluttering as it changed directions. Her hair that had pulled loose from its braid waved wildly around her head.

Her fingers were pale against the dark wood of his old bow, and he swallowed as he watched her reach back methodically for a white-feathered arrow, nock it, pull back to her cheek, and…finally release.

She was improving, if moderately. She was hitting the target more often than not, but it was usually the very edge. Sometimes the arrow struck at an odd angle and it didn't stick.

A young Rohan soldier leaned over to her offering her a tip. Legolas' eyes narrowed slightly. He saw Lana's lips curve and irrationally a spurt of jealousy shot through him. He was half tempted to walk over and glare the youth away, but he stopped himself when Lana glanced over her shoulder, her smile now directed at him.

Then she turned back to her practice, lifting the bow creating the correct archer's silhouette.

Aragorn appeared a short while later, abandoning his post to take a small reprieve. His nerves were stretched to the breaking point, and he needed a distraction. He came to stand beside Legolas, greeting him silently. Together they watched Lana as she continued to battle the wind and her inexperience. The Ranger said nothing as Legolas stepped over to correct her arms slightly.

Aragorn knew better than most that it was imperative for Lana to learn these skills. But it was his hope that she would never need to use them in earnest again. He glanced at Legolas and saw the elf's face was grim.

o0o

That evening as Lana prepared for bed in room Éowyn put her in, she pulled up her black camisole to see her stitches. Her muscles were hurting more than the arrow wound after all the practice Legolas had put her through.

Removing the bandages she delicately studied the neat row of thread that held her skin together. The pain was more or less manageable now. It seemed her threshold for pain had increased—or her body was giving up on signaling it to her brain. Either way, she was relieved that she could move about with relative ease. However, a new annoyance had started occurring. The stitches were beginning to really itch.

She frowned trying to resist scratching them. But it was like more she looked at them the itchier they became. She poked them hoping to trick her body into thinking she had scratched them. There was a soft knock on her door and it started to open.

Startled she pulled her shirt down and turned. Legolas stepped into the room. His face was pensive but it lightened when his eyes rested on her. She blew out a breath about to berate him for scaring her but the words evaporated on her tongue. Legolas looked utterly morose. Lana went to him immediately.

He sighed as his arms closed around her. Nestling his face against the crown of her head he breathed deeply.

"What is it?" She asked him after a few moments.

Legolas drew his lips into a thin line. After another moment, he lifted his head and looked down at her. Her blue eyes watched him intently. He brushed the back of his fingers over her cheek.

"I sense a change. The malice in the east moves—it is restless."

Lana lifted her brows but asked pragmatically, "What can we do?"

Threading his fingers through her hair, he concentrated on the feel of her heavy locks in his hand.

"We must be ready."

Lana tilted her head. "Right now? I was just getting ready for bed," she mock-pouted.

Her silliness worked and he smiled. Then chuckling he pulled her closer and rested his head against hers. "Nay, _Melethril_. Not this very moment. You may sleep this night."

She nuzzled him slightly. "And you too," she said inflexibly.

He met her eyes, confused by her tone.

"This could be the last night you get a decent rest in weeks. I won't have you up all night thinking in circles like Aragorn." She cupped his face with concern. "You need your rest too."

He chuckled. "Do you forget, _meleth nín?_ I am an elf. I need far less rest than you."

She merely snorted. "So you say until you fall asleep on Arod's back." She shook her head. "Come to bed, Aureos. Lay your worries aside for one more night."

While she reached her goal of easing some of his concerns, she still had her own. Time was running out. She could feel it slipping through her fingers like sand. The mood over the Rohan capital was one of pensive breath holding.

Lana understood his concerns. She felt them too. It was the calm before the storm. And the waiting was unbearable. Wounded as she was, she would not be able to follow them into battle when the call came. Nor did she wish to fight; but it stung her character to know that she would not be going with them. As a journalist and a war correspondent she had always accompanied the soldiers. Where they went, so did she.

The knowledge that Legolas would be leaving her behind pained her heart to the point that she refused to think of it. She did not know what she would do without him, or Aragorn and Gimli. Merry might be going too for all she knew.

And she would be stuck here in this medieval village. Alone.

Quickly dousing the thought by pressing her lips to Legolas' she lost herself in his touch. She only pulled away when her side started itching again. She swore causing Legolas' brows to rise.

"These fucking stitches are driving me crazy," she groused.

He gave her a compassionate look. "Do they pain you? Shall I find Aragorn? I am certain he can get something to ease them for you."

She shook her head. "It's not so much pain as it is the itching."

He nodded sympathetically. He knew the feeling well having been stitched up many times over his lifetime. Drawing her close he ran a light hand over her side. She flinched and drew back a little. Legolas frowned deeply.

"Why is there no bandage on your injury?" He asked with muted alarm.

"I took it off because I wanted to see how it was healing," she said turning to the bandages laid out on the vanity table.

Legolas saw the length of cloth and the thick pad of lint on top of the dresser. The pad had a faint yellowish stain on it showing that it had been absorbing the fluids that leaked from the wound. Thankfully there was no sign of blood.

He came up behind her, his hands on her hips. "May I see?" He asked softly.

He hadn't really seen the wound before for it had been covered hastily by dirty bandages and had been bloodied.

Lana turned around and lifted up the right side of her shirt. He saw the seven stitches that pulled the injury closed. It was slightly red but it appeared to be healing nicely. His heart clenched at the sight. Lightly he ran his fingers over them but Lana squeaked and jumped away.

_"Gah!_ Don't do that! They itch so bad!" She complained and pressed her hand to her side.

_"Goheno nin."_

She nodded. "I wish the damn thing would just heal already. I'm tired of it."

He had to smile at her for she sounded very much like the warriors he knew back home. Although elves healed far more speedily than mortals, Lana would most likely have to put up with her stitches for a while yet.

She rebound it and pulled her shirt back down. Legolas, not wanting to be far from her, wrapped his arms around her. Without reservation, he took her lips in his, smiling slightly as Lana sighed in his arms. It was an empowering thing to have her respond to him like this. He had never experienced such influence before—and he liked it.

Without warning he scooped her up, causing her to squeak in surprise. He laughed lightly and laid her gently on the bed before leaning over her. His hair fell forward shielding them from the world.

"Did I tell you that you did well today?" He murmured, his lips a breath away from hers.

Lana's eyes hooded, her eyes staring at his lips.

"No," she said finally meeting his gaze. "I don't think you did." Her lips curved then. "You pointed out all my mistakes though, and stood behind me rather grumpily glaring at me and any soldier who was bold enough to talk to me."

Legolas scoffed. "I was not glaring."

"Glowering then,"

He grumbled low in his throat. "I see, you are asking for punishment!"

He attacked her lips fiercely, plundering them like a conquering foe. Lana fought back with equal fervor, intending to get the upper hand. She placed a hand on his chest and ran it slowly down his long torso, pausing just above his belt. She felt his body quiver and smiled, pleased to discover that it wasn't only his ears that were sensitive.

Besides, it was best to save that bit of knowledge for when she wanted to win the game quickly. But for now, she wanted to drag out the pleasure. Deftly her fingers worked the buckle and the belt loosened. With a single hand, she languorously pulled on the embossed leather.

Surprised to suddenly find his belt in her hand he glanced down into her mischievous eyes. He watched as she bit down on the leather slowly, her white teeth in stark contrast to dark stain.

Grinning wickedly up at him she goaded him with his eyes. Her devious little hands ran down his tunic again, gathering up the edge and pulling. He sucked in a breath sharply as her fingers touched the bare flesh of his abdomen.

She pulled the leather from her mouth.

"Are you still going to punish me?"

* * *

_Reviews feed the muse. ;)_

_As always thanks for reading!_


	43. Call To War

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.**

I don't own anything of Tolkien's Middle Earth. I just play there.

* * *

**Chapter 42: The Call To War**

The following day there was something in the air as they rode around the hill. It was as if the entire world was holding its breath. There were no birds or small bush animals; everything was still. Except the wind. That constant zephyr that whipped down from the White Mountains was always present.

Legolas was quieter than usual, but Lana didn't interrupt his thoughts. She sensed it too. A feeling pregnant with foreboding that she couldn't dislodge. It had taken root in her gut some hour in the night and she knew that time was running out.

Last evening she had nearly pushed Legolas over the edge, but knowing that sex was sacred to the _Eldar_, she had laid off her teasing before it became too cruel; or out of hand. Still, she had managed to coax him out of both his outer and under tunics. To see his bare torso, the muscles rippling beneath his alabaster skin, it was a woman's dream. Lana had always known he would be beautiful—had even fanaticized once or twice about what he looked like beneath those elven clothes.

Her hands nearly trembled when she touched him not believing he was real. He had laughed at her then, knowing he had the upper hand at last. Though he restrained himself after inadvertently hurting her. He had been alarmed and had wanted to stop their play immediately, but she told him not to worry. It wasn't his fault entirely, for she had gotten too involved as well and forgot about her injury.

But what a glorious night! To spend it in the arms of her lover and know that she was safe, secure, and so _deeply_ loved! She never knew it could be like this.

_Fucking war._ She frowned.

They started to come around the hill back toward the city gates and at last Legolas spoke to her.

_"Goheno nin, Melethril,"_ he said guiltily. "I did not mean to ignore you."

She shrugged. There was nothing to forgive. "What have you been thinking about?" She inquired, hoping that by giving voice to his thoughts he would feel better.

He sighed, his gaze scouring the open land. "Many things weigh heavy on my mind. The war; Frodo and Sam; the pending battles." He turned his gaze to her. "You."

She gave him a soft smile. "I hope I am a good distraction from all that."

His lips curved up at the corners, and he looked her over speculatively. "You are the _best_ kind of distraction," he assured her, but then released another sigh like a pressure cooker. "I worry about the future in ways I never have before."

With out warning, he halted Arod. Lana pulled on Hasufel's reins.

"I have always wanted Middle Earth free from the evils that plague it. Long have I desired that my people have peace and no longer have to fear. As I've traveled these lands I saw goodness in places I least expected." He smiled at her before surveying the land, his thoughts coloring the horizon.

"Then my desire expanded. I longed for peace for not just for Mirkwood, but for all Arda's peoples. I wanted each realm, every being, young and old to have prosperity and to know a life without fear or darkness." He cast his eyes down to stare between Arod's ears. "When I joined the Fellowship I came with the knowledge that I could help make this happen."

Lana swallowed at the raw passion in his voice. He spoke with such conviction and she was enraptured by it. It was a desire that she could understand for she too had wanted to change her world for the better. Though space, time, and experience separated them in innumerable ways, they still managed to share so much. A desire for a brighter future was one thing they each could strive for.

Yet as he turned and held her gaze, she saw that there was more.

"But now, I want this more than I can say—not only for me and Middle Earth but for _you."_ He reached over and took her hand. "I would have this world renewed for your sake." He spoke fervently.

Lana's heart was so moved that she leaned across Hasufel and kissed Legolas lightly.

"All will be well," she said, choosing to believe it.

Legolas inhaled and squeezed her hand. "I will make it so, _meleth nín."_

o0o

They returned to the Hall for a late lunch. Legolas and Gimli began conversing between themselves while Lana ate with Merry. The hobbit was still depressed so Lana took it upon herself to cheer him up as best she could. At the very least he would know he wasn't alone.

Aragorn remained outside on the steps. His face had been a mask of nervous anticipation. The energy he exuded made everyone anxious. It affected Lana significantly. As she bonded further with each of her friends she became increasingly aware of their moods. And without her permission, they started to affect her own thoughts and feelings—a side effect of allowing herself to feel too much.

The food she ate rested uneasily in her stomach, and soon she quit eating altogether. A sudden sense of foreboding washed over her like a cold bucket of water. She glanced about to see if anyone else noticed it. But all was business as usual. Lana began to bounce her foot as the feeling grew.

She glanced at Legolas. He was usually a good indicator, but he continued to stand by the pillar, listening to Gimli go on and on about something. Lana felt the sudden need to get up and walk—run even. It was all she could do to remain casually seated.

Without warning, the doors of the hall burst open causing everyone to jump.

"The beacons of Minas Tirith! The beacons are lit!" Aragorn came sprinting into the hall looking wilder than Lana had ever seen him. He came to sliding halt before Théoden, his eyes wide and desperate.

"Gondor calls for aid!"

After the commotion, the silence that followed was deafening. For a heart-pounding moment, there was something like a breath of doubt. Then Théoden, recovering from his surprise, lowered his brows with forceful determination.

"And Rohan will answer!" He called loudly. "Muster the Rohirrim!"

Éomer who stood near the throne bowed and swiftly turned to carry out his king's order. Éowyn, who was never far from her king, lifted her chin. A new light entered her eyes. As for Aragorn, he looked relieved but now a new urgency prompted him. They had to leave _immediately_.

Lana, her heart in her throat had sprung up like a jack-in-the-box when the Ranger burst in. Adrenaline sparking through her nerves she went quickly to retrieve her backpack and weapons. Legolas was on her heels.

"What are you doing?" He asked in alarm as he saw her pull out her riding habit.

"I will go with you to the muster point." Before he could protest she continued. "Éowyn told me that it is tradition for women of the court to ride out with their soldiers before they go to war."

She turned and stood close to him. "I will not let you or any of the Fellowship ride into this war without a proper goodbye." Her tone was inflexible and a fierce light entered her eyes.

Instead of a frown as she expected Lana saw a small smile tugged on Legolas' lips.

_"Rawen nín."_ He brushed her hair back. _My lioness._

It took Lana only moments to change into her riding habit. She rebraided her hair tightly and donned her weapons. A look at Legolas and their eyes told of sadness, resignation, and love. The elf held out his hand and she took it.

Together they left the Golden Hall for the last time.

o0o

Aragorn led out Brego fully saddled into the stable yard. All around was the commotion of soldiers making haste to ride out—with them would go squires, healers, and weapons specialists. It would take time to get this many people out of the gates, but the Ranger was at least comforted by the knowledge that they would not be slowed by women and children.

Therefore, he was greatly surprised to see Windfola, Lady Éowyn's mare, saddled and ready to ride. The lady herself was dressed for a journey.

"You ride with us?"

"Just to the encampment," she replied adjusting the straps on Windfola's bridle. "It's tradition for the women of the court to farewell the men."

A gleam from under the saddle blanket caught the Ranger's eye. He lifted the corner only to have Éowyn quickly pull the blanket down. His lips thinned but he said nothing of what he had seen there.

Éowyn's defensive look softened. "The men have found their captain—they will follow you into battle, even unto death." Her voice lowered, her eyes penetrating his. "You have given us hope."

Aragorn kept silent, unable to bear the look in her eyes. He checked Brego's saddle girth one last time before mounting up. Legolas appeared leading Arod, and Gimli walked next to the elf. Boosting the dwarf up, Legolas easily vaulted into the saddle ahead of him.

Lana appeared as well, openly armed with sword and bow. She led Hasufel who gleamed in health. Her attention to the stallion showed, and it was a wonder to see how easy she was around the horse now.

Aragorn frowned a bit and nudged Brego over to her. Hasufel's ears pricked and he nickered at the Ranger. Lana glanced up at him and smiled softly before she swung up stiffly into the saddle. This caused Aragorn to frown further.

"You should not ride with us, Lana," he told her. "You are not fully recovered."

Lana adjusted her skirts before lifting her chin. "You can argue all you like, but this time, you have no say." She stated simply. "I am going and there is no point trying to dissuade me."

Aragorn glanced at the elf who was eyeing the commotion around them. "Legolas allows it?" He asked.

Lana shot him a look. "He loves me, but he does not own me, Aragorn. I still make my own decisions," she replied tartly.

He sighed, truly having no desire to argue with her. There was too much at stake—too much on his mind. But the last thing he wanted was to worry about her. Still, Legolas would not let her out of his sight, he reasoned. And it wasn't like she was coming to battle.

"Be careful," he warned her before nudging Brego out of the stable yard.

Lana maneuvered Hasufel next to Arod. Legolas turned, his face softening as he looked upon her. Gimli gave her a weak smile as well. She nodded to them, having no words for this moment. Their attention was stolen as Éomer yelled from his horse.

"Now is the hour! Riders of Rohan—oaths you have taken—now fulfill them all to lord and land!"

A great cheer rose from the men and hundreds of riders thundered out of the gates. Near the front, by Théoden King rode the leader of the Dúnedain and Ranger of the North. At his side were the Prince of Mirkwood and the son of Glóin. Just behind was Meriadoc Brandybuck, halfling of the Shire on a stout pony.

And with this band rode a strange woman: her hair the color of the rising sun, and eyes of the deepest cerulean like the heart of the ocean. As she rode beside the warriors she said her final goodbye to a life and world she once knew.

No longer would she be Lana Rey of the city of London, daughter of California of the United States of America, Citizen of the World. Now as her stallion's hooves ate up the ground, she became transformed into a citizen of Middle Earth.

And there was no turning back.

o0o

It took two day's hard riding before they arrived at the muster point in Dunharrow. Already those soldiers who lived nearer the rendezvous had arrived and set up a military camp. Loyalist riders called out in welcome to their king. They hailed him with fierce pride and joy. These were the sons of Eorl, born and bred on Rohan's plans. Like her horses, her men were swift, strong, and proud.

As they trotted down the main thoroughfare, Théoden acknowledged his people. He queried the captains on how many men they brought: Five hundred here, three hundred there—but more were coming they assured him. No one noticed Aragorn's hands tightening on his reins.

_Not enough._

They rode up a zigzagging trail to a plateau that looked over the land. From here Théoden and Aragorn could see the entire Rohan army gathered before them. Neat rows of tents looked like a child's playset from this height. The sight was impressive. A wellspring of satisfaction buoyed up Théoden's heart. His people had heard his call. He had not lost their faith.

However, there were fewer here than he had expected. Had his people been so decimated during his ensorcellment? The shame that he had been trying to rid himself of leered over his shoulder. _Failure. Less than your fathers,_ it hissed. _You lead them now to slaughter, son of Thengel?_

In his mind, he imaged slicing the head off that serpent's voice, but it merely laughed, as more heads seemed to grow in its place; each whispering betraying thoughts of defeat and ruin. Would this be the Rohirrim's last ride?

"Six thousand spears," Théoden murmured to Aragorn as he tried to dispel the dark thoughts. "Less than half of what I had hoped for."

Aragorn bowed his head, his teeth clenching. "Six thousand will not be enough to break the lines of Mordor," he said with thinly veiled disappointment.

"More will come," Théoden told him confidently. He recalled the joyful voices of his soldiers as they entered the camp, and the promise of more men. _They will come._ He started to move away.

"Every hour lost hastens Gondor's defeat. We have till dawn; then we must ride," Aragorn said in a voice that seemed to grow in authority.

Théoden's jaw tightened but he nodded committing himself and his soldiers to this fate.

The sound of a frightened horse caused them both to turn. One of the soldiers tried without success to calm his mount. The animal snorted, eyes wide and tried to pull away. And the gelding wasn't the only beast acting up. Many of the horses stamped their feet and blew heavily. Ears and eyes were rolling this way and that. A sheen of sweat glistened on the animals' coats.

Even good-natured Hasufel had given Lana a hard time. It had been a struggle to calm the animal down and at last Legolas intervened lest she hurt herself. Walking through the camp it was clear that all the horses were spooked. Even the men seemed anxious. The air was pregnant with a feeling of suspense, like in a horror movie.

Lana didn't like horror. She had seen enough of it in her real life. And she was sensitive to the ambiance of a place. Animals were good indicators of when things were not right. Their senses, superior to men's, picked up on things that most people either missed or dismissed. But Lana couldn't ignore the energy that seemed to vibrate in the air. Right now, she felt like a goose was walking on her grave. She stayed close to Gimli and Legolas, wondering what had the animals so worked up.

"The horses are restless…and the men are quiet," Legolas noted coming upon Éomer.

The Marshal nodded, as he unsaddled his own mount. The stallion snorted and bobbed his head. "They grow nervous under the shadow of the mountain." He nodded towards a cleft in the peaks and a path between them.

"That road there," Gimli said looking down the misty corridor. "Where does that lead?"

Legolas was the one who answered, though, his eyes hardening. "It is the road to the Dimholt…The door unto the mountain."

A chill ran down Lana's spine. She glanced at him in bewilderment, and then took a step closer to his side.

"None who venture there ever return." Éomer added, eyeing the pathway with distaste. "That mountain is evil…"

Lana saw Aragorn up ahead staring down the vaporous trail. She cocked her head wondering what he saw for he seemed fixated on something. Her gaze shifted from the Ranger to the swirling fog and back. A chill wind blew from the crack between the mountain walls and Lana felt an inexplicable dread. Old childhood memories of haunted cemeteries ran like spiders over her skin.

"Aragorn!"

The Ranger jumped staring wide-eyed at the dwarf who nudged his arm. Gimli glanced down the path then back up at the man.

"Let's find some food."

o0o

As night fell Lana found herself becoming quieter. The pending departure of her loved ones was all consuming. It was unbearable and she suddenly desired solitude—as if by being alone she could delay the inevitable.

She sought out Hasufel. The stallion nickered to her, but he was still jumpy. She didn't blame him. There was something very peculiar about this mountain. The way the wind whistled through the cleft was creepy, and she felt like she kept thinking about movies like_ Nightmare on Elm Street_.

She nearly screamed when a hand touched her. It moved quickly to cover her mouth, lest she frighten the entire camp.

"Holy shit, Legolas!" She hissed pressing a hand to her heart.

_"Goheno nin,"_ he pulled her into his arms.

She hugged him back, burying her face in his chest. Holding him tightly she thought wildly that maybe she could convince him to stay behind. When he tried to pull back so he could see her face she refused to loosen her hold.

"Lana," he breathed in protest.

She squeezed her eyes shut hearing her name rolling off his lips.

"Please, _meleth nín,_ let me see your face."

Shuddering she at last drew back enough and looked up into his gaze. As always he seemed to glow under the light of the stars. Unbidden her eyes filled with tears.

"I don't want you to go," she whispered, feeling ashamed. "I promised myself I wouldn't say that, but…" she shook her head and sniffed. "It's what I feel."

Legolas sighed and held her to him once more. Lana hugged him back, tears falling from her eyes. A silent sob shook her chest. It made her cry harder for failing to be strong for him. Since when had she turned into a blubbering sentimental woman? Ever since coming to Middle Earth all she seemed to do was cry. Her tears waffled between true sorrow and hot anger.

The elf's heart was splintering as Lana wept in his arms. He rested his cheek on her head, rubbing his hands along her spine. There was nothing he could say to ease her pain, he thought bitterly. The quest held his fidelity—it came before him or her, and their love. That final thought made his heart cry out in protest, but such was the way of it.

_"Avo nallo,"_ he murmured to her emotionally. _"Nan sí," Don't cry. I am here._

"But not for long," she whispered through her tears.

Legolas exhaled, his entire body deflating. He continued to rub her back, and then slowly separated the strands of her braid until her hair was set free. Over and over he ran his fingers through the wavy tendrils. He wanted to memorize the feel of it, the color—its scent.

Tugging on her hand, he led her further into the tiny grove of trees that stood outside the camp. Once hidden in the shadows he pulled her roughly into his arms, kissing her as if his life depended on it. Unabashedly she threw her arms around him.

They both knew this moment had been coming. Yet it didn't make the parting any easier. The few sweet and precious days they had in Edoras were now only sunny memories. The oppressive war loomed over their shoulders; its slathering dogs nipped at their heels baying for blood.

The time had come.

When they finally broke apart Legolas cupped her face lovingly. "Do not fear. I shall return to you." He never lied to her before so there was no reason to doubt.

Even so, her lips wobbled. "You sure as hell better, or I will find your bloody corpse, raise you from the dead and then kill you myself if you break that promise!"

He laughed recalling she had said much the same to Aragorn.

_"Aiya, Melethril_, never has a parting been so bitter for me!" He kissed her forehead, then the space between her brows. "I feel as if my heart is being wrenched from my chest."

With each word he interspersed kisses on her face—one for each eyelid, her nose, her cheeks, her chin, down her neck and finally back to her lips.

"It is," she murmured cheekily through her tears. "I'm trying to steal it from you so that you'll stay with me."

Sad mirth caused the elf's chest to shake. He held her face in his hands as he plundered her lips. Only after a long moment, he focused on her eyes.

"I would defy death itself to come back to you," he said fiercely.

She swallowed, touched beyond words. Eerily she felt echoes of their goodbye from Helm's Deep enter her mind. Except this time, their love was laid bare—and they would not be seeing each other so soon once he left.

"And I will be waiting for you," she replied with deep emotion.

Stroking his face she memorized it until she was certain she had seen all there was to see. Meeting his eyes she spoke. _"Tu sei il sole del mio giorno; Tu sei la mia luna e le stele; mia luce—non posso vivere senza di te,"_ she whispered her voice quivering.

_You are the sunshine of my day; you are my moon and stars; my light—I cannot live without you._

As if she had the power, she impressed upon his mind the images of the sun, the moon, and the stars. Unbeknownst to her, he saw the images she sought to conjure in his mind. He stared at her in wonder not fully comprehending what just happened.

"Know this, Legolas Greenleaf, if you fall in battle—I _will_ die from grief," she told him, her eyes boring into his.

He kissed her heatedly then, whispering Sindarin words of love so passionate that had she understood them fully she would have blushed to hear them. When he finally led her back to the camp, all trace of tears and emotional goodbyes were gone from their faces.

Legolas urged Lana to rest but she refused, seeking instead a spot next to Gimli by the fire. Merry appeared outfitted in Rohirric armor swinging a rather dull blade—but he was full of pride.

"I am the Esquire of Rohan!" He told them with a satisfied smile. "Wait until Pippin hears of this!"

He trotted off to the smithy to get his blade sharpened. Lana smiled sadly shaking her head while Gimli chuckled.

"I pray that horse-gear keeps him safe," the dwarf said.

Lana looked at him questioningly. "Merry is going off to battle too?"

"As Esquire, he'll be beholden to the king now. If Théoden commands it then the lad will go," Gimli said pulling out his pipe. "Though it would grieve my heart to see him on the battlefield."

It grieved her to think of any of them on the battlefield. Legolas came and sat beside her offering some bread and cheese. She gave him a weak smile before taking the offering and then passing some on to Gimli.

A wind howled through Dimholt passage. Lana pulled her cloak tighter about herself and Gimli shivered. "That wind certainly puts a chill in the blood!"

Lana nodded. "It's definitely creepy. I don't like it," she said munching on the hard cheese. "Is it supposed to be haunted?"

Gimli grunted. "There are stories. Ghosts in the shapes of men." Gimli pursed his lips. "There is a tale that the Dimholt leads to the land of the dead."

Lana perked up, interested. "You mean like the Underworld?"

Gimli shrugged. "I don't know about that. I don't know where Men's spirits go after death."

Lana glanced up at Legolas then, her eyes questioning. "I am not familiar with all the tales, nor do I know what the 'Underworld' is," he said.

Lana leaned back against him. "The Underworld pops up in all different cultures and myths where I'm from. I've found it fascinating that no matter how diverse or even geographically remote, Mankind seems to create the same kind of stories—as if there was some sort of universal consciousness,"

She could tell that she had lost them. "Never mind. I can tell you the myths I know from home instead."

Merry returned by this time, his sword now keen. "Are you going to tell stories?" He asked grinning.

She nodded. "I'll tell you about Hades—or Dis, as the Romans, my very distant ancestors called it."

Lana described to them in detail that when someone died in either Greek or Roman culture they had to be buried with two coins to give the Boatman. This specter, Charon as he was called, would ferry the souls of the deceased across the river Styx to bring them to the land of the dead.

A vicious three-head dog guarded the realm, she told them, by the name of Cerberus. He kindly let souls in but never out; and he kept the living from entering. Using vivid words and a bit of voice acting she reeled in her audience—describing the palace of Hades where the god of the dead resided with his wife of terrible beauty.

She told them of Aeneas, first of the Roman heroes, who journeyed to Hades to speak with his dead father. But before he found him, he had to travel past the Fields of Mourning where Queen Dido resided. Then she described the large fortress where the judge Rhadamanthus doled out punishment to the unworthy. Then, at last, she told them of Fields of Gladness—Elysium.

Despite the macabre subject, her audience was held captive by the vivid images she painted with her words. This Underworld did not sound so terrible, provided one made it to the Elysium Fields. Lana did not go into very much detail about Tartarus though. They were in a living hell as it was. No need to bring up the eternal one.

She continued the story until the hour grew very late. Merry was the first to turn in. Aragorn was nowhere to be seen. Eventually, Gimli mumbled his goodnights, although he resolved to stay by the fire.

Legolas led Lana to the tent reserved for the Fellowship. Merry was already clean out, his soft snoring no louder than the breeze. Horses still stamped and snorted outside. It was dark inside the tent and Lana put her hand on Legolas' arm so she wouldn't trip in the gloom.

Guiding her to a pallet he encouraged her to lie down.

_"Idh." Rest._

She looked up at him. "What about you?"

He crouched by her side. "I will be right outside."

Lana sat up, distressed. "You won't stay with me?"

The elf ran his fingers through her hair, brushing it back. It was a grievous thing, he thought, to not stay by her side. There was truly no need for his ears and eyes tonight with so many on guard. Even so, he felt compelled to keep watch. Something needled him—something was going to happen.

Smoothing his hand over the back of her head he pulled her face to his. "Not this night, _Melethril_. Evil is stirring, and I cannot rest."

She looked at him with a long-suffering expression but sighed. Pursing her lips she laid back down. Legolas bent over her indulging in one last kiss. He could sense her disappointment and tried to not let it affect him.

"Soon it will be over," he murmured in undertone.

Her eyes stared back at him. Unable to keep her gaze he rose and left the tent.

o0o

Gimli still sat by the fire smoking another pipe. He glanced up at the Mirkwood elf. He had not expected to see the lad at all. Time spent with Legolas taught him the elf's moods, and it was clear that he was restless.

"So," Gimli said unperturbedly. "When were you going to tell me?"

Legolas lifted his luminous eyes to the dwarf. They narrowed slightly. "Of what do you speak?"

Gimli snorted. "Don't think you can fool me, elf," he said shaking his pipe at him. "You and the lass. It's as clear as day."

Legolas thinned his lips crossing his arms. He looked away, not wishing to discuss his private life with the dwarf.

"You love her, that much is certain."

Legolas' head shot up, and Gimli chuckled dryly.

"All you elves believe you're so reserved, but you forget lad that we have traveled many months together now. I know you better than you think."

Legolas sighed and sat down next to the dwarf. His hair fell forward, glimmering in the firelight. He stared at the flames as if it had all the answers.

"You are right, Gimli. I do love her." He lowered his gaze, conjuring up her smile. "More than I can bear; and it frightens me." He whispered in a rare moment of vulnerability.

Never before had he allowed himself to be so exposed to the dwarf. Only to Aragorn, or Gandalf when pressed, had he ever expressed his deepest concerns.

Begrudgingly Gimli felt some compassion. He could never claim to understand elves or their confounding ways. But to see Thranduil's son so caught between such sweetness and bitterness stirred the dwarf's heart to sympathy.

"'Tis a hard road you walk now, laddie, and I don't know what comfort words can be, so I shan't say them."

Legolas nodded, grateful. Empty words would more of an annoyance than of value. Sitting back then stretching out his feet toward the fire, Legolas spoke.

"I fear that it might not matter in the end," he murmured in sotto voce.

The dwarf's bushy brows rose slightly. "Does the elvish princeling lose hope then?" He murmured in mocking tones.

Legolas shot him a look, but his lips quirked a little. "Have you learned nothing about elves? We never lose hope." He exhaled eloquently then. "But my heart is restless within me."

Gimli nodded understanding. "Aye. I feel it too. The Shadow stretches long before us. It is good that Lana stays behind. I would not wish her to witness the coming darkness."

Legolas nodded though his mind conjured up what he knew of her. Evil was not foreign to her, but he would not allow it to find her. She had endured enough. The _world_ had endured enough.

* * *

_Thoughts? _

_Did you catch any typos or grammatical __errors? If so, do let me know!_

_As always thanks for reading! _


	44. Mad Desperation

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.**

I don't own anything of Tolkien's Middle Earth. I just play there.

From this point on you will noticed inconsistencies with the movie version of ROTK. That is because I am going to be introducing characters and elements from the actual book. Just a head's up!

Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 43: Mad Desperation**

Éowyn caught sight of the solitary figure leaving Théoden's tent. Earlier she had seen the white horse that seemed to shine like the moon and had immediately questioned the guards about it. The stranger had entered their camp and asked to speak with the king. It was much to her surprise then when Aragorn was summoned to the royal pavilion. Moments later Théoden left his own tent.

Éowyn kept herself hidden in the shadows. Her eyes remained fixed on the colorful sides of the king's tent. She wished she had elf ears so she might hear what was going on. Her soul was restless. Who would seek out Lord Aragorn in this place at this hour?

Robed in a dark cloak the mystery figure finally emerged from the tent. The stranger was tall. Taller than any of the men here, she noted. And he moved with the grace of a king. However, when he glanced at her she felt the keen glance of something other than a man looking back at her.

The stranger moved on silent feet toward the white horse of indescribable beauty. Only Shadowfax was fairer. With an ease that would put jealousy into any Rohirrim's heart, the stranger mounted and then guided the horse soundlessly down the steep road and away.

Some minutes later Aragorn reappeared. His face was set in grim lines as he returned to his tent. Éowyn felt her heart speed up. Worry sank into her soul. She followed him, hiding the shadows between the tents. When he disappeared inside his own her heart began to beat even faster. Suddenly afraid, she sought out Lana. She came upon the elf and dwarf, Aragorn's ever present companions, but Lana was nowhere to be seen.

"I am sorry, my lady," the elf said in his musical tones. "But Lana has since retired."

Éowyn twisted her hands in her skirts.

"What ails you, mistress? You appear more flighty than your noble horses." Gimli asked her.

"I would not trouble you, but," she seemed indecisive. Then she lifted her chin. "It is Lord Aragorn." Immediately his companion's eyes were keen. "I fear he has had ill news. He met with a stranger in the night."

"A stranger?" Gimli echoed, his brows lifting.

o0o

Lana listened from the other side of the tent as Éowyn told her friends about the mysterious figure that had left Théoden's tent. Contrary to Legolas' words she had not retired. Her mind was still running in circles. She had listened to the indistinct murmurings of Legolas and Gimli and to Merry's soft snoring, and found that she could not rest. She had tossed and turned until she heard the Shield Maiden's voice

"Will you not go to him?" Éowyn's voice pleaded stiffly.

Lana frowned. The next words were lost for Merry rolled over in his sleep, mumbling about food. She growled irritably and threw back the blankets that covered her. Creeping stealthily towards the tent flap she was disappointed to see that Éowyn was now gone, but Gimli and Legolas were looking anxious.

"I shall return," Legolas announced and then disappeared into the night.

Lana frowned. _Where is he going?_

o0o

Aragorn murmured to Brego who snorted restlessly. Tightening his pack to the saddle with more force than necessary, he frowned as one of the straps knotted. His heart raged against what Lord Elrond had told him. Fear licked through his veins.

_Arwen is dying._

How could it be so? He grimaced further, as he swiftly unknotted a strap and re-tied it. Brego snorted again and stamped a hoof.

"Why are you doing this?"

Biting back a terse sigh, Aragorn glanced over his shoulder to see Éowyn. The White Lady of Rohan materialized from the twilight. Her eyes glistened with distress. He could sense she was angry. Sweeping up to his side like a warhorse she spoke heatedly.

"The war lies to the east! You cannot leave on the eve of battle!" She stepped closer to him, clearly trying to temper her resentment and distress with desperate eyes. "You cannot abandon the men."

Aragorn released the heavy sigh he had been holding. "Éowyn…" He turned away but she followed him.

"We need you here," she said emotionally.

Finishing with the straps he glanced sideways at her. "Why have you come?"

Hesitantly Éowyn stepped closer. Her eyes, the color of a spring sky held so much hope, so much promise, and something more. They bore into his own.

"Do you not know?" She asked in a voice that trembled slightly.

Aragorn felt his heart sink. He had sensed her interest and had tried to deflect it, but she refused to be put aside. Not that she ever spoke directly before… He did not wish to hurt the lady, but there was nothing he could offer her beyond respect and friendship.

Holding her gaze sadly he spoke gently, "It is but a shadow and a thought that you love…I cannot give you what you seek."

Éowyn's lips fell open and she stepped back as if struck. Her stricken face tore at his heart.

"I have wished you joy since first we met." He told her then slowly turning, he walked away with Brego at his side.

Éowyn's eyes filled with tears. She was stunned speechless. Her eyes were about to overflow but she refused to let a single tear fall. Snapping her mouth closed she watched as the man she loved leave her with naught but a bitter flavor in her heart. The frigid winter in her soul deepened. The betrayal turned to anger, but instead of burning with it, ice covered her thoughts. With military-like precision she pivoted on her feet and marched back to her tent. A cold wind followed her.

o0o

Lana poked her head out of the tent and saw only Gimli. Seeing the movement he turned and looked at her.

"You're supposed to be sleeping." He admonished.

She ignored the statement and came to crouch by the dwarf. "Something's happening," she said, not expecting a reply.

Gimli grunted, but said nothing. His eyes caught sight of Aragorn leading his mount through the shadows between the tents.

"It seems our plans have changed." The dwarf pushed himself upright and positioned himself near the path Aragorn was taking. As the Ranger was about to walk by, Gimli made himself known.

"And just where do you think you're off to?"

Aragorn paused, and then shook his head firmly. "Not this time, Gimli, This time you must stay, my friend."

Gimli snorted and crossed his arms over his broad chest.

"Have you learned nothing of the stubbornness of dwarves?" Inquired a more musical voice.

Looking over, Aragorn saw Legolas with Arod saddled and ready to go. The man bowed his head, hiding a faint smile. There was nothing for it. They would follow him to the end.

Looking up he saw Lana standing by the fire. The look in her eyes was not so different from Éowyn's, but it caused his heart a different kind of pain. In them he saw fear, disappointment, and regret. She said nothing, but he could tell from the way her fingers clenched her skirts that she was restraining herself tightly.

Aragorn stepped up to her. As he came close he saw the tears that shimmered in her eyes. "I want to go with you," she said in a quivering whisper.

Immediately Aragorn shook his head.

"Please," she looked down, but knew she was defeated. "I won't fight. I promise. I just…I need to _be_ there."

Aragorn lifted her chin.

How far she had come, this strange otherworldly woman. In his mind he recalled the frightened but determined face of the lost girl in the mines of Moria. He had seen her struggle and come to terms with where she was. He had trained her, taught her how to fight and defend herself and others. She had built friendships and become a most reliable, trustworthy, and courageous friend. And in a way, she had become his savior—a thing he would never forget.

It grieved him to say good-bye, but he would not put her in danger. She was not fit enough to ride, nor was she a skilled fighter. The road they walked now was more than perilous. There was no guarantee of victory. If anything, it was a fool's errand he was embarking on now. He would not have her death on his conscience.

"Stay with Éowyn," he said softly. "Return to Edoras. We will send word to you."

Lana swallowed, her eyes falling to Gimli and then to Legolas. Aragorn witnessed the pain he himself had felt when leaving Rivendell. When her eyes returned to him, he took her hands.

"Remember your training, and keep a sharp eye." He leaned forward then and kissed her brow.

Gimli came next and took her hand, pressing a kiss to it. "Stay safe, lassie." He covered their joined hands with his free one. "And keep a prayer in your heart for us."

She nodded and swiftly crouched down so she could hug him properly. The dwarf heartily embraced her in return.

"I'll keep an eye on the elf for you," he whispered so only she could hear. She sucked in a breath and nodded. Her voice would only betray her if she tried to speak.

When she stood her eyes went to Legolas. Something more than what words could express passed between them. But she merely said, "I will not say goodbye—for that is too final." She forced her voice to be strong. "Go with what blessings of your Valar, gods, and what angels you have. And go with my blessing…for what it's worth."

She swallowed, and looked them hard in the eye.

"I will see you all again…but not yet…" Her last words faded as if she was speaking to herself.

Aragorn suddenly embraced her, and just as quickly let go and led Brego on. Gimli followed in his footsteps. Arod's ears pricked but Legolas held him back a moment.

His eyes burned into hers. The distance between them was small but it seemed unsurpassable. Already they each were slipping away from each other as the tide of fate rushed between them. Lana bowed her head then looking away, unable to bear it.

That single motion animated Legolas and he swept her up into his arms. He held her tightly and he could feel her heart thundering under her breast. It throbbed in tandem with his. Gripping her hair he kissed her forcefully. Then he pulled away hastily and led Arod after Aragorn and Gimli.

Lana stood; her eyes shone with unshed tears. She watched as Legolas mounted. He offered Gimli his hand and pulled the dwarf up behind him. The trio rode towards the haunted road. Those still awake started murmuring.

"Where is he going?"

"What's happening?"

Lana trembled not hearing anything but the knocking of her heart as it rattled her ribcage.

"Lord Aragorn!" Gamling called, but the mists of the Dimholt swallowed them up.

"Why does he leave on the eve of battle?" A bewildered soldier asked.

"He leaves because there is no hope." Gamling replied, disheartened.

Théoden appeared then watching as the gray stallion the elf rode vanished into the gloom. "He leaves because he must," the king said turning to his men.

The soldiers murmured between themselves. Their courage ebbed away with the three riders into the mist.

"Too few have come." Gamling reminded him. "We cannot defeat the armies of Mordor."

And without their champion what hope did they have now? The men loved their king, but the truth was there in that statement. They were afraid—and Théoden had failed to inspire them. Observing the grim line faces, the old horse king shook his head.

"No," Théoden said lowly. "We cannot."

The men looked at him in amazed fear and dread. As he surveyed their faces, noting their disillusionment and panic, he steeled his heart. His own face became firm as he summoned the strength of his forbearers.

"But we will meet them in battle, nonetheless."

His eyes gleamed with the camp lights. In his soul a long dormant spirit turned and yawned. It was the warrior's soul: a fey and glorious spirit that laughed in the face of death. Théoden instilled it within his men. Glancing one last time to the dark road Aragorn had taken he turned to his men and ordered them to rest. It would be a hard long journey to Gondor.

Lana did not notice the king until he touched her shoulder.

"Lady." Jolted from her stupor she turned blank eyes to Théoden. "You should take some rest."

Lana nodded mutely. Théoden gave her a bland smile before moving away. Slowly Lana followed the king with her eyes as he returned to his pavilion. His words bounced off the walls of her brain.

_Not yet…_

A shadow caught her eye. Shifting her gaze she saw Éowyn on the perimeter of the camp. Their eyes met in a collision of fire and ice. A hard frost was on Éowyn's features, but Lana could not say if it was directed at her personally or not.

As for her own face, anyone who had looked upon it said later that it was the face of defiance—a face of a queen—though Lana would have laughed to have heard that. She knew not then the level of defiance within her. In truth she felt nothing.

At last she returned to her tent and lay down, but sleep did not come to her. When dawn arrived, pale, cold, bedraggled as something a cat brought it in, it fell on her to tell Merry what had happened.

"What do you mean they've gone?" He asked bewildered. "Where did they go?"

Lana bowed her head. "They took that road into the mountains. I heard some of the men talking—they said Aragorn goes to summon the dead."

The hair on Merry's feet curled at the thought. "That sounds ominous, doesn't it? Still, they could have said goodbye."

Lana nodded absently, not catching the hurt in the hobbit's tone. Already the sounds of the camp signaled a new day. Everyone was getting ready to leave. She stood.

"Come Merry; perhaps breakfast will make this day a bit brighter."

He agreed, though he was solemn as the rest. As they ate, Merry told her that he would ride into battle with the Rohirrim. It was his duty and honor to do so. What she didn't know then was that Merry's request would be denied. So Lana sighed, wishing to talk him out of it, but knew that it was fruitless to do so. Oddly, she felt the same spurt of madness she had felt in Helm's Deep.

Suddenly she too wanted to ride with them.

She helped Merry don his armor and smiled fondly at him. He looked resplendent in his golden gear.

"If there was time, I would do a proper sketch of you in that armor," she said, making him grin broadly.

"I will find you before we ride off." He told her.

Lana nodded and returned to the tent to gather her few possessions. She changed out of the dress and put on the clothing from Lothlórien sans the tunic. It had been ruined at Helm's Deep. Back at Edoras, Éowyn had found her a spare shirt that belonged to her brother, though she had raised a brow at Lana's request for it.

It was with some relief that she shed her dress. Lana was tired of skirts and layers. Now was no time to play warrior princess. She snorted thinking on that brief moment of insanity when she actually thought of riding with the Rohirrim. As she folded her clothes she mentally folded that thought away.

But thoughts, unlike clothes, never stay neatly where they are placed. And that thought followed her around. _You should go with them. You have a job to do. Don't you remember? Lana? What are you first and foremost?_

With a growl she zipped her backpack closed sharply. She knew she had better find Éowyn before the chaos of the army's departure separated them.

She searched and searched the entire camp on the plateau but no one seemed to have seen her. At last she dared to approach Théoden. He was already garbed in his armor, looking every inch the king he was.

She bowed deferentially. "Your highness," she said. "I have been looking for Lady Éowyn so we can prepare to return to Edoras. But I cannot find her."

He nodded, eyeing her with lucid eyes. What he saw was a woman that would have made the House of Eorl proud. Odd that she had the look of the Rohirrim but was so foreign. She was a good companion for his niece though. Even now, damped as her spirits were, he saw the fire lurking in her eyes.

Speaking to the dread on her face he said, "You needn't fear, Lady. Edoras will be well guarded in my absence. Éowyn is a capable leader."

Lana nodded. "I do not doubt it."

Théoden said he had not seen his niece since dawn. Perhaps she was down below readying to depart. Lana bit back a tart sigh. Royal lady or no, Éowyn sometimes got on her nerves.

She looked across the camp surveying the brave soldiers tearing down the tents. That voice in her thoughts continued to hound her. Suddenly a new idea came into her head.

"Your Highness," she meeting Théoden's eyes confidently. "Do you have healers who will be traveling after you?"

Théoden's brows rose slightly.

"I have some skill with medicine, and I know how to respond to trauma wounds from battle."

"What are you asking of me, Lady Lana?"

"Not to fight, sir," she said slipping up on her address. "But to travel behind the army and act as a first response for your soldiers wounded in battle."

Théoden looked her over again thinking that she was well matched with his niece. He knew of her bravery at Helm's Deep—and he also knew she was not a soldier.

"What healers we have are warriors also—and they will be going into battle just the same as the rest," he said his tone one of finality.

"Let me ride with you, I promise to keep out of the way and stay out of the fighting."

He shook his head. "Nay, my lady. Lord Aragorn would have taken you with him if he thought you battle ready—but you are not a warrior. And the battlefield is no place for women."

"But—"

"I will say no more." The king turned and left her staring at his retreating back.

Growling under her breath she ran a hand through her hair._ Where the fuck is Éowyn?_ She continued to search as the camp fell apart around her. She didn't have much time.

Biting her lip she drummed her fingers on her sword hilt. History was happening all around her. Songs would be sung about these men. That's how history was recorded among the Rohirrim. These brave soldiers were going to war to fight a desperate fight. And as beautiful as songs were, they would hardly do justice to the plight of the warriors. Epic tales rarely captured the true horror and heroism of war.

_What do you do, Lana? When there is a war, where do you go?_

The voice was back. Growling she moved to where Hasufel was hobbled. The stallion greeted her enthusiastically. With all the commotion he was ready to run. He nudged her with his head.

"What do you think, my Bucephalus, hmm?" She pulled the stallion's head to her.

_What are _you_ thinking?_ She asked herself. All around her soldiers went to and fro, saddling horses, strapping on provisions and gathering weapons.

_Have you forgotten who you are? Ever since you've come to this world you have not been yourself. Now is your chance!_ She lifted Hasufel's saddle, grunting under the weight. Her wounded side howled in protest: a stark reminder. _You are not a warrior but you are a soldier of another kind._ Nimbly her fingers cinched the girth strap.

_Who are you, Lana?_

_I am a journalist: a war correspondent._

_And what do you do when there is a war?_

_I report._

_Then go do your job, journalist._

Throwing the reins over Hasufel's head she came to a decision.

It was a simple enough task. With the camp in disarray as it was she was able to easily steal some armor and a concealing helm. She searched without success for Merry and Éowyn.

"It appears that we will not be saying goodbye," she murmured to Hasufel.

She quickly threw her hair up into a bun and donned the Rohirric armor behind a screen of trees. Heart pounding she emerged and swung up onto Hasufel. The camp was dismantled. In almost slow motion she observed the scene with a journalist's eye, committing it to memory. Already her mind was to her work.

"Move out!" She heard Éomer's commanding voice shout over the din.

The sound of thousands hooves striking the earth would put the fear of God into anyone. The thundering hoard moved like a winged beast over the fields and plains.

Lana's heart soared with a strange fire that she hadn't felt in years. She was going off to do what she was born to: to bear witness.

* * *

_Brave little journalist. Reviews feed the muse. ;) _

_As always, thanks for reading!_


	45. Dead Men Walking

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.**

I don't own anything of Tolkien's Middle Earth. I just play there.

Nota Bene: For those who haven't read the books, Aragorn and friends entered the Way of the Dead with their horses and with the Grey Company. P. Jackson completely omits both of these bits from the films. So in case you're wondering as you read, there is a reason for the horses to be coming along.

* * *

**Chapter 44: Dead Men Walking**

The trail that led into the crags was barren. The White Mountains were aptly named for the stones on the path were colorless and chalky. The only signs of life were the occasional crows that cawed above the three warriors. A fine white dust was kicked up by the horses' hooves, which echoed loudly against the stone walls.

Despite the sun that now shone down upon them, the air felt very cold. The horses did not like the trail and they snapped their tails and snorted. The blinding monochromatic scenery toyed with their minds, creating images that were not there. Even the horses' shadows startled the normally fearless steeds. Tossing his head Arod quivered and moaned.

"What kind of an army would linger in such a place?" Gimli murmured uneasily.

"One that is cursed," Legolas replied.

The dwarf swallowed, his eyes darting about. He half expected to see shades in the gloomy shadows that lurked in crevices.

"Long ago," Legolas continued. "The men of the mountain swore an oath to the last king of Gondor—to come to his aid. To fight,"

Brego snorted uneasily and tossed his head. Aragorn reached forward and murmured soothingly to the animal.

"But when the time came, when Gondor's need was dire, they fled…" Legolas said. "Vanishing into the darkness of the mountain. And so Isildur cursed them—never to rest until they had fulfilled their pledge."

Gimli shivered. Who would have thought ghost stories could be so frightening in broad daylight?

A chill breeze blew down the trail and with it came an eerie fog that blocked out the sun. Aragorn followed the path to where it ended. Before them stood a yawning portal. On either side were two twisted trees that had long since died. Their gnarled remains had been stripped of all color and they looked like boney hands with bent fingers grasping towards the sky.

The three warriors dismounted and approached the doorway guardedly.

"The very warmth of my blood seems stolen away," Gimli whispered.

Legolas felt it too and Lana's stories about the Underworld floated through his mind. As an elf, he was not afraid of the shades of men, but the memory Lana's ghostly words and the rather unpleasant air made his skin prickle. He realized belatedly that she could be quite foreboding if she wished it!

Above the door ancient writing was carved into the rock: symbols and beneath them very old runes that were nearly gone—eroded by years of water and wind. Legolas squinted trying to make out the words.

"The way is shut. It was made by those who are dead, and the Dead keep it. The way is shut."

Suddenly a hair-raising air blew from the doorway freezing their blood and making the horses whinny in terror. The Ranger and the elf had a hard time of it convincing the horses to stay. Rearing and bucking they at last stood still, bodies shaking. Gimli looked around wide-eyed. He was with the horses on this one. This was one place to definitely not be!

Grasping Brego's bridle firmly Aragorn stared into the gaping blackness ahead.

"I do not fear death!" He declared, and he plunged into the dark, tugging the reluctant animal after him.

Legolas lowered his head, and with a silent command, he led Arod into the dark, following the Ranger.

Gimli, however, did not budge. His teeth chattered as his feet remained fixed just beyond the door's shadowed entrance.

"This is a thing unheard of!" He said aloud. "An elf will go underground, but a dwarf dare not!" He grit his teeth. "Oh! I'll never hear the end of it!"

Bracing himself he charged in after his friends.

o0o

Lana groaned as she dismounted Hasufel. This ride was the hardest she had ever done. Part of her—the soft, weak mewling part—was regretting this decision. However, Lana knew that sacrifices had to be made in order to get the job done. The part of her brain that whined was acknowledged and then ignored.

Still, she hadn't recalled feeling this physically terrible in a very long time. Every bone and muscle in her body was rattled to bits, and her wounded side blazed with agony. Despite double bandaging her injury and adding extra padding, it hurt like hell. She felt nauseated with pain. And it was barely two hours past noon!

When her feet touched the earth, she clung to the saddle until the jelly-like sensation passed. Even Hasufel appeared tired as she walked the stallion towards a stream. They had only a short break before they would ride again. At the pace they were going it was necessary to water the horses when they could. Lana wondered how anyone would have any strength to fight.

_It's like running a marathon and then doing the Tough Mudder._ She frowned remembering how her brother loved to push himself. He did that insane marathon the year before. It nearly killed him he had told her with a laugh. It did not sound like fun.

_Oh Aidan._

She sighed as she so often did when thinking about her brother. _I wish you could be here with me._ His light humor and special talent for making her laugh would have been much appreciated now.

Lana nodded to a soldier who was returning from the stream, choosing to stay mute, lest her voice gave her away.

So far, the soldiers around her had yet to realize who she was. And she would keep it that way for a bit longer. She didn't want Théoden to catch wind of her just yet—if at all. Ideally, he would never know. She had already invented a plan that would allow her to stay that she hoped was foolproof. But its success would be greater the farther away they got from Rohan. Lana drank water from the canteen she had and then refilled it at the stream.

Surreptitiously she poured a bit down her front. She hissed through her teeth as the icy water trickled under her clothes and between her breasts. The sticky sweat was replaced by refreshing water. Her face felt hot as well, but she didn't dare remove her helmet. Not yet.

Before long, the battle horns were sounded and they were off again. Allowing herself one indulgent groan of self-pity, she swung back up into the saddle. She growled to keep from gasping as her stitches pulled and stretched. But she said nothing and drew on reserves she didn't know she possessed.

Turning Hasufel's head she urged him into line with the rest.

o0o

The darkness was overwhelming. It had a different quality than the darkness of night or even the darkness of Moria. Here the air was close, damp even. A restless wind seemed to be sighing through the caves as if many sad souls were wailing and groaning.

Aragorn lit a torch and led them on paths where no living thing had tread for nearly an age. Legolas, even with his keen eyes, had a difficult time piercing the gloom. As opaque as the gloom was it seemed to shift like a nefarious ink. He glared into the yawning darkness, daring it to defy them. But it receded as the torchlight moved forward.

However, it felt like the darkness was leading them _on_ instead of retreating.

The horses shivered, and they rolled their eyes staring at the black nothingness around them. Laying a soothing hand on Arod's muzzle Legolas tried to instill some peace into the animal. The stallion gawked at him with fear, but trust was there also. The animal nosed the elf's hand even as his coat sweated.

Ahead of them, Brego snapped his tail snorted. The sound bounced hollowly around them, and Aragorn quickly placed a gentle hand on the stallion's neck. His murmured words were so soft that even Legolas could not hear them. Brego settled enough walk on, but his ears were swiveling constantly.

As they moved on there was the feeling of many hundreds of eyes watching them. The sensation grew as they moved ever further into the bowels of the earth. But nothing could be seen. Legolas squinted into the shadows. Other than the strange shifting quality of the darkness there was nothing there.

The further they walked however, the more pronounced the movement became. Alert, he tightened his grip on his bow. The shades of men did not frighten him, but he knew not what they were capable of—if anything.

Onwards they descended, and the floor seemed to slope downward. In his memory, Legolas heard Lana's voice, the dulcet sounds now echoed strangely between his ears and caused his skin to crawl.

_"And down they went into the bowels of the earth, where darkness darker than black enveloped them. Around our hero and his guide countless specters thrived, and monsters bred of fearsome nightmares dwelt. All were without bodies, at once shapeless as impassive air, and yet so horrific that lesser men would have died on the spot just to behold them. Had the Sibyl stopped to tell Aeneas what these shades were, the great hero would have turned back. But she kept him in his ignorance, and so he was able to pass into Erebus."_

Legolas shuddered and forced Lana from his mind. The effect of her story on his thoughts was disconcerting.

As they continued the path began to change. There was some semblance of stonecraft. The walls were smoother and recesses were cut into them. The passageway which had been empty was now crowded with debris. A slow building horror seized the trio.

Aragorn paused when his boot crunched. Glancing down he swallowed. "Do not look down."

Bones. All around them ancient corpses were revealed. Some were tucked away into catacomb-like graves in the walls. Others had shifted over the years and their remains fell scattered on the stone floor. A heavy layer of dust covered the bones, and wispy cobwebs undulated as they passed by.

The horses picked up their feet each time a bone snapped under their hooves. They did not like stepping on them.

Gimli was feeling about as brave as a rabbit at this point. An eerie mist was gathering around them now. Aragorn, however, did not slow his determined pace. Gimli could not tell if he was afraid or not, for nothing showed on his face but a grim fortitude.

Legolas halted as they came near an area particularly abundant with bones. Elves rarely die, and a corpse was not a familiar sight to one of the _Eldar;_ particularly one that was naught but a skeleton. In his mind, Legolas saw a flash—an image that brought a chill to his heart.

Lana lay pale and cold as death, unmoving beneath a tall beech tree. She was garbed in elven finery and looked queenly to him…except she appeared dead. He inhaled sharply and turned his gaze from the bones, his heart pounding.

"What is it? What do you see?" Gimli asked, afraid.

Legolas swallowed hard and cast his gaze into the murk, daring any of the shades to come for him or his love. Though she was safe and far away, he could not help but fear for her—no matter how irrational it was.

He squinted again into the pitch. And at last!

He saw them.

"I see the shapes of men…and of horses." Legolas murmured, watching the shifting and fading effigies of long dead men.

"Where?" Gimli asked breathlessly, he looked about wildly.

A great shudder ran through Arod and the stallion refused to move. Legolas, his eyes still trained on the wisps around them halted.

"Pale banners like shreds of cloud," the elf continued.

Aragorn's eyes widened as he listened. It was the only sign of his great unease. Drawing Brego close he forced them to move forward. Legolas continued as they walked.

"Spears rise like winter thickets through a shroud of mist." The elf's eyes grew large. "The dead are following. They have been summoned."

Gimli spun around quickly causing Arod to flatten his ears.

"The dead? Summoned?" The dwarf repeated nervously. "I knew that, huh…humph…very good…very good."

Realizing that his companions were moving ahead without him he quickly picked up his pace.

"Ah, Legolas!"

The further they went the greater the unnatural fog grew. It was a sickly green color now and it glowed inexplicably in the torchlight. All around them there seemed to be a whispering and ghastly hands appeared from the mist.

The horses snorted and moaned, their coats quivering. The whites of their eyes glinted as they danced uneasily. Legolas tried to withdraw from the spectral hands but no matter which way he went they followed. He thought he heard words in the stale air.

_"The way belongs to those who are dead…and the dead keep it…all mortals are born to die, Elf. She will die…she is one of us…we were once like her…and she shall be like us."_

Legolas felt his pulse increase and he glared into the shadows with a defiant fire.

_"The dust of dead worlds clings to her…she is ours."_

Gritting his teeth Legolas pushed ahead. He refused to listen to the voices. Death would not take them and it would not take her.

_I will see you again…but not yet…_

Legolas held fast to Lana's voice in his head, conjuring up her singing in the Golden Hall, her eyes warm and alive with light and love. The ghosts seemed to mock him though. Their lipless mouths leering with hate.

The three warriors forged on.

o0o

When at last they stopped for the night, Lana made sure to keep near the back of the ranks. Six thousand was an easy number to hide within. But being the only woman amid six thousand _men_, well…She wasn't sure if she would trust them. Still, she decided that now was the time to roll the dice.

She nodded and greeted those seated around a small fire. Seven soldiers crowded close to the scant warmth, eating dried meat and bread. Pulling off her helm she pushed back the loose hair from her face.

One of the soldiers looked up at her in shock.

"You're no soldier!" His shocked remark made the others turn and gap at her. "What are you doing here, woman?" He asked bewildered.

Lana lifted a brow. "I am here by request," she said putting her plan into action.

The men looked at her skeptically. One of the older soldiers gave her a gimlet eye. He sat back and crossed his arms.

"By whose request, exactly?"

Lana gave him a dry look. "Whose do you think? Don't you know who I am?"

At their baffled looks, she mentally congratulated herself. She had picked her audience well.

"I am Lana Rey. I traveled with Aragorn, Ranger of the North and his companions. I am a renowned chronicler and storyteller and I am here to bear witness to these events so it can be remembered for generations to come."

She smiled, rather pleased with her little speech. For most of the day she had vised and revised what she would say. Knowing that the Rohan people were avid storytellers she hoped that they would buy into her tale.

The trick to any lie was to tell the truth as much as possible, and only gloss over those details that needed to be hidden. As a journalist, Lana was indeed a chronicler and a storyteller. And she was a foreigner. She leaned heavily upon that detail hoping it would lend credence to her fabrication. How would these men know that women didn't ride into war where she was from?

The younger men asked her many questions along this vein. They were fascinated by her, if not a bit attracted to her. But the older man was not distracted by a pretty face. He gave her a dry look.

"This Aragorn you speak of—he is not king here. Théoden leads us, and it is his leave you need."

Lana lifted her chin. "Of course. Théoden and I spoke this morning. Why do you think I ride in the back? I am not here to fight,"

"But you wear armor and carry weapons," another soldier pointed out.

She gave him a snide look. "It would be idiotic to enter a war zone without either. Wouldn't you agree?"

Her dry matter-of-fact attitude won them over. She could play the part of a hardheaded journalist well. After breaking down the barriers, Lana found many eager voices who wanted to tell her their stories.

Pulling out her sketchbook she wrote down their names and quickly took down their words. Many of the men were married, some were even fathers. The old one, Héma, was the most fascinating to her. He had fought in many battles and had known Théoden when he was young. He had ridden to battle with the then young prince. Hearing stories about their king's bravery lightened the soldiers' hearts. Courage and bravado were building in the little group and it pleased Lana to see it. This was something she knew well—the camaraderie between soldiers.

It didn't matter that these men were from a world alien hers. They were men and soldiers. They lived and breathed and felt the same as she did. While they might seem archaic to a less trained eye, Lana saw the similarities more than the differences. She could well imagine her own ancient ancestors sitting down to moments like these, trading stories.

When Lana at last laid down that night she felt a certain fellowship with these men. They each had their own stories—hopes and dreams—and while their chances of survival were slim, they still clung to the idea of a future worth fighting for. And they laughed in the face of their pending doom.

She had to wonder at that. It was unnatural to be willing to give up one's life for a cause not your own. But then, they had convinced her that this cause _was_ theirs.

If Gondor fell, then Rohan would be next. And so, they went not just to save the White City, but to protect their own. And Lana couldn't help but honor that. She did her best to take down their words. She hoped to one day publish a book with their stories.

But for the moment, she lay staring up at the stars wondering what her brave warriors were doing right now. She prayed that they were safe and that whatever paths they took would be smooth and easy.

Her last thought as her eyes drifted closed were of Legolas and in her mind's eye, she reached out to him. Over the hills, streams, and mountains she flew to him and embracing him with her love she sang to him in her dreams.

o0o

The quality of the air changed and the three hunters found themselves in an open space. The torchlight hardly chased away the gloom, but they could sense that they were not alone.

Brego abruptly whinnied and Arod tossed his head as a dreadful voice hissed around them.

"Who enters my domain?"

Aragorn whirled trying to pinpoint the direction of the voice. Suddenly before them, there was a specter of man. His image shifted as if he was decaying before their very eyes. An iron crown sat on the insubstantial head, and wisps of ragged robes shifted in an unseen wind.

Gimli gulped while Legolas lifted his chin and glowered. Aragorn stared down the dead king and summoned all his courage.

"One who will have your allegiance," he answered with authority.

The dead man looked them over, unimpressed. Around him, a great host seemed to fade into view. They eyed the living beings with thinly veiled ill will.

"The dead do not suffer the living to pass." The King of the Dead told them.

His subjects advanced appearing more numerous than before. Slowly they were ringed in. The horses shifted and pranced in panic.

Aragorn held the king's vacant stare. "You will suffer me!" He said, his tone brooking no objections.

The ghoulish king laughed, the sound chilling their blood. Ahead of them, a sickly light gleamed as a spectral city appeared. More shades advanced—they were soldiers, skeletons of men and horses, and they narrowed in on the warriors: a noose tightening around them.

"The way is shut! It was made by those who are dead—and the dead keep it."

Gimli hefted his ax instinctively, but it would not save him.

"The way is shut! Now you must _die!"_ The ghost king said moving towards Aragorn.

Legolas lifted his mighty bow and shot an arrow right between the king's eyes. It passed straight through and clattered in the darkness beyond. The elf's lips parted as he grit his teeth. The image of Lana dead on the earth flashed before his sight. He grimaced and shut his eyes.

"I summon you to fulfill your oath!" Aragorn commanded, glancing around at the spirits.

"None but the King of Gondor may command me!" The dead one hissed.

Moving faster than anyone could believe the ghost king was before Aragorn. He lifted his sword and attacked. Aragorn immediately drew forth Andúril—forged anew from the shards of Narsil—brought to him by Elrond.

The two swords clashed, echoing in the cavernous hall.

The dead king's glowing eyes widened. "That blade was broken!"

"It has been remade." Aragorn hissed back, and he caught the insubstantial ghost by the throat and shoved him back.

The dead host stared at him in wonder. Raising his sword again Aragorn turned to the horde and addressed them at large.

"Fight for us and regain your honor. What say you?" He turned looking at each shifting specter. None answered him.

"What say you?" He asked again with more force.

"You waste your time Aragorn. They had no honor in life and they have none now in death." Gimli growled.

The Ranger moved around the circle waiting for an answer. "I am Isildur's heir. Fight for me and I will hold your oaths fulfilled." He brandished Andúril before them. "What say you?"

He turned back to the King of the Dead. The ghost king began to laugh, fading away taking his mighty host with him.

"You have my word!" Aragorn shouted at the retreating images. "Fight and I will release you from this living death!" They continued to retreat and desperately Aragorn cried out again. _"What say you?!"_

"Stand you traitors!" Gimli barked, but the ghost army was gone.

Without warning, there was a rumbling and the sound of cracking. The horses screamed in fear and reared up. Suddenly a barrage of bones came tumbling towards them.

"OUT!" Aragorn bellowed, yanking on Brego's reins.

The horse bolted towards the only open space with Arod hot on his heels.

"Legolas! Run!" Aragorn hollered, grabbing Gimli by the shoulder.

Chasing after the horses they became overwhelmed by a tidal wave of bones. It was so much that they ended up wading through them. They ran down a passage where a dim light glowed ahead—a white light—and they scrambled towards it.

Emerging into the bright light of a setting sun the three warriors stumbled out of the mountain, sucking in the clean air. From their vantage point, they could see the wide estuary of the Anduin. Black ships were visible, heading north against the flow of the river. A village on its bank was burning. Even from this great distance, screams of panic and terror could be heard.

Aragorn stared down, eyes wide, his heart pounding…_Failed…I have failed._

Falling to his knees he hung his head. They were too late—and helpless to aid those in need. Evil was upon them and bad luck too. Tears blurred the Ranger's eyes.

Legolas, well aware of his friend's torment, stood by him and rested his hand on the man's shoulder. Gimli sighed, the weight of their task now an even heavier burden.

What chance did they have now?

Inexplicably there was a sound behind them, like a moaning wind. Turning they saw the King of the Dead appear from the rock wall and approach them. Immediately Aragorn rose. A flicker of hope filled him.

"We fight!"

o0o

Legolas stood on the ship's aft, gazing south. His eyes were alight with a strange glow and he had not moved for hours. Three times Gimli had tried to get him to leave his post, but Legolas hardly noted him.

Aragorn had observed him with a heavy heart, but there was nothing that could be done now.

The elf's hands tightened on the wood of the ship as a gull cried out above. Its mournful call was not beautiful but it haunted him just the same. Wheeling and bobbing on the breeze that blew from the south, it bore up the gull and a slightly sweet yet salty tang.

_The Sea._

Never in all his life had he felt like this…not even when he had lost his mother; not when friends he knew fell in battle or even when he thought Aragorn dead. A searing pain ran through him as he realized that not even his love for Lana could compare with this…this…_longing._

It was more than just a physical sensation—a tingling in his body—it wrapped around his spirit and whispered to him like a seductive lover…like a siren.

Imperceptibly his hands shook. In his mind he recalled the warning the Lady of the Light had told him alone.

_Legolas Greenleaf long under tree_

_In joy thou hast lived. Beware of the Sea!_

_If thou hearest the cry of the gull on the shore,_

_Thy heart shall then rest in the forest no more._

"Lad?" Gimli's voice was tentative.

Legolas shuddered and bowed his head. He sensed the dwarf near him, but his mind was so far away. He felt something touch his hand and realized it was a cup of water.

"No ale aboard this ship," the dwarf said conversationally. "Just some vile liquid they dare to call alcohol. And water."

Legolas did not take the water though he was parched. The seabirds continued to follow them, blown up by the very wind that bore them towards Minas Tirith.

"Gulls!" He choked out bitterly. "They are flying far inland."

Gimli lifted his brows and eyed first the elf and then he looked upward at the white and gray birds that flew lazily under the stars.

"A wonder they are to me and a trouble to my heart. Never in all my life had I met them, until we came to Pelargir," Legolas lamented.

Gimli gave him a confused look wondering what it was about these birds that bothered the elf so. If anything, they were a nuisance! Noisy and nosey, they would wheel around the ship and then land on the mast. They squawked in voices that were like nails on a chalkboard. Their fishy-smelling droppings were everywhere. Disgusting creatures.

But Legolas was now staring up at them with fixed anxious eyes. Gimli had noticed this new look that had entered the elf's gaze when the gulls first appeared. He saw how Legolas had jumped as if physically struck. Even after they claimed the ships and got rid of the pirates, the elf had been distracted. And here he stood even though he was no longer needed—for hours!

"Elves," he grumbled. "Always making something out of nothing, _humph!_ They are just birds, Legolas—and hardly ones with a talent for singing."

Legolas blinked and looked down at the water beneath the ship. In the broken reflection he could still see the gulls.

"Their wailing voices speak to me of the Sea, Gimli," he shuddered again. "Deep in the hearts of all my kindred lies the sea-longing. It is perilous to stir up." Legolas clenched his jaw and continued most bitterly. "Alas! No peace shall I have again under beech or under elm! No peace at all until I sate this thirst!"

The dwarf slowly started to understand—or at least he had heard of this so-called "sea-longing." But it didn't make sense to him. He tried to steer the conversation away from gulls and oceans, but Legolas was not inclined towards talking. In fact, he seemed in that faraway place once more. Sighing Gimli left the deck seeking the respite of sleep if there was any to be had on this ghost ship.

Legolas did not notice Gimli's departure, nor did he note the passage of time. Eventually, the gulls turned aside and he shivered in relief. But it was too late for him. His heart now bore a heavy grief for he was not yet ready to leave these shores—and yet he desired to turn this ship around and head south this instant.

For a moment, he forgot about the war, his oath, Middle Earth…Lana. He gripped at his heart. More than anything his heart bled because of that—for how could he forget her even for a moment? He gasped and pounded his fist on the wooden handrail. The cup of water tumbled into the dark river below.

_Forgive me, meleth nín!_

He stood there panting, caught between the two strongest desires he had ever known. It made him feel physically ill.

Suddenly a fresh wind blew from the north and for a moment, it cleared the air. The ship's sails fluttered, slacking—and there was a breath as if the earth sighed.

_Hear my cry in my hungering search for you._

_Taste my breath on the wind._

_See the sky as it mirrors my colors,_

_Hints and whispers begin_

_I am living to nourish you, cherish you,_

_I am pulsing the blood in your veins._

_Feel the magic and power of surrender_

_To life._

_Uisce Beatha._

_Every finger is touching and searching_

_Until your secrets come out._

_In the dance as it endlessly circles,_

_I linger closer to your mouth._

_I am living to nourish you, cherish you,_

_I am pulsing the blood in your veins._

_Feel the magic and power of surrender_

_To life._

_Uisce Beatha…_

The song entered into him, infusing him with a need so deep and passionate that it drove away his newfound sea-longing. He knew the voice that sang it as if it had been his own. It seemed now that the world around him shifted and he saw Lana in a green field lit by millions of stars.

She wore a dress of purest white in a style that was not elven, nor was it like those that mortal maidens he had seen. The soft drapery concealed as much as it revealed. Diaphanous layers billowed and undulated over her body. Her long hair was free and blowing about her in soft waves ending in curls. On her head was a crown of luminous blossoms and twisting vines. And in her eyes was the light of her love burning like a thousand universes. He reached out towards her even as her own hand stretched to him warmly. Her voice soothed his soul though the words were poignant and sad.

Suddenly he was before her, and she looked up into his eyes. A goddess she appeared to him, and he longed to touch her but was afraid to.

_Legolas…_

Her breathy voice animated him and he reached for her, intending to hold her close and never let her go.

And then she was gone.

Awareness came back to him and he felt the movement of the boat beneath him; heard the lapping waters against the hull. Legolas inhaled sharply, his eyes darting every which way.

The wind from the south was back with its alluring tang, but it was not quite so distracting as before. Bewildered and emotionally overwrought, he sank down on to the deck, his back against the hull of the ship. And he prayed harder than he ever had in his long life.

* * *

_Thoughts? Reviews feed the muse!_

_Some extra notes: _

_When Lana speaks of the Underworld in Legolas' memory she says _Erubus_ **not **Erebor. Erubus is (ancient) Greek for 'darkness'. It can also stand for Hades/the Underworld. Erebor as we all know, is The Lonely Mountain. Two very different places in two very different mythologies. _

_Galadriel's Warning: In the books this was delivered to Legolas via Gandalf in Fangorn. This was completely omitted from the films. For this story, I have placed it during the month in Lothlórien in a private scene between Galadriel and Legolas. I didn't write it, but assume it happened._

_The song: For the Broadway nerds, you'll recognize this song from Riverdance. It's called_ Cloudsong. _You can youtube it by searching _Cloudsong, Riverdance. _Or _Cloudsong, Anúna.

_For those who are curious: _

_The words_ Uisce Beatha _translate literally into "water of life". But it also refers to whiskey. Why exactly this song refers to whiskey, I don't know. I can only assume it is referring to the literal translation. It would make more sense._

_If you caught any typos or such, do let me know!_

_As always thanks for reading! _


	46. The Siege of Gondor

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.**

I don't own anything of Tolkien's Middle Earth. I just play there.

* * *

**Chapter 45: The Siege of Gondor**

The sound of thousands of hooves was like a low rolling thunder chasing the wind. The force of it vibrated through the earth for miles. Small burrowing creatures ducked into their hovels as the host of the Rohirrim pounded over their doors. Rabbits flattened their ears and moles dug deeper into the earth. It sounded like the vengeance of the Valar strode upon the plains.

It took four days hard riding before the great cavalry of Rohan reached the outlying fields of Minas Tirith. Though dawn was just about to break, the sky over the city was black as if night still lay upon it. Orange and red fires licked the fields and the White City shimmered in the evil glow as if bleeding from within. Thousands upon thousands of orcs, trolls, and fiendish creatures pressed upon the city.

The host of the Rohirrim halted on crest of a hill looking down at the destruction. Théoden could not believe his eyes. The scene before him was indescribable. Feelings of overwhelming horror seized the Rohan army. It appeared that Gondor had no hope.

They had come too late.

Gritting his teeth the King of Rohan immediately called to his highest-ranking officers. "Éomer! Take your _éored_ down the left flank!"

Éomer galloped off in preparation. "Flank ready!"

"Gamling, follow the King's banner down the center. And Grimbold! Take your company right after you pass the wall. Forth and fear no darkness!" Turning his white stallion about he addressed his soldiers. "Arise! Arise riders of Théoden! Spears shall be shaken, shields shall be splintered. A sword day! A red day ere the sun rises!"

The enemy was so focused on destroying the city before them that it was some time before they saw the horse army. Bewildered it took them another long moment before they shifted their lines to face the Rohirrim.

Snowmane, Théoden's warhorse, ran up and down the first line of riders. In salute the mounted warriors lowered their spears. Spurring the stallion, Théoden raced across the line of spears, running his sword along each of them. The resounding _clack!_ as the blade smacked the wood caused the horses to jerk their heads up.

"Ride now!" Théoden bellowed. "Ride! Ride for ruin and the world's ending!"

Pulling up short he whirled around to lift his sword high and released a battle cry.

"DEATH!"

The army repeated him in a roar.

_"DEATH!"_

Six times they rallied, crying out _DEATH_ to their foes. All who heard them felt a sudden awe and fear in their hearts.

Lana, who had moved up the ranks in the early hours swallowed. She had positioned herself where she could see without being seen. Her heart nearly stopped when she first saw the army that besieged the pearly city. Its white walls were now scarred with fire and ash.

Suddenly she realized that she was not in an ideal location at all. Her initial thought was to slip out of the ranks as they devised a battle plan. She had no idea that they would be charging straight into the enemy lines.

The cries of _Death!_ chilled her to the bone but strangely it had a peculiar effect on her as well. She shivered with bloodlust. However she knew she could not ride down into that battlefield. She had to get away.

_"Forth Eorlingas!"_

She swallowed again.

Hundreds of horns sounded and the Rohan army started down the hill. Surrounded on every side, Lana and Hasufel had no choice but to ride forward. Very quickly the horses gained speed as they tore down the hill and out onto the plain. Lana tried to rein Hasufel back and let the other riders move past them, but the stallion was headstrong and hell bent on following the herd.

"Come on!" She grunted pulling back hard. "Not that way, Hasufel! Oh! Damn you, you bloody bastard!"

Yanking on the reins the stallion's head was pulled down and he snorted and skipped in his gait. When he bucked slightly Lana instantly loosened her grip on the reins and reached for the saddle horn to steady herself. His head now free, Hasufel gained speed again.

The noise around her was deafening as horses neighed and manic Rohirric riders screamed their battle cries. The world became a blur of light, shadow, and sound. A barrage of arrows fell from the sky. Some hit their mark, felling horses and their riders. Lana felt one glance off her pilfered armor and she yelped but it was lost in the roar of twenty-four thousand metal-shod hooves.

Heart racing as fast as her mount Lana pulled Hasufel hard to the right; he snorted but finally veered off. They peeled away from the main group and Lana was at last able to slow the stallion. The host swept past them in a wave.

Lana felt her entire body shaking with adrenaline. Her hands seemed stuck in fists still wrapped around the reins and part of Hasufel's mane. It took a moment for her hands to relax their death grip. Hasufel snorted and tossed his head irritably as he watched his fellows fly into the battle.

"No, Hasufel. I will not die today, nor will you," she said through gritted teeth.

Spurring him around she rode back up the hill so she could watch the battle from a safe distance. No one seemed to notice the single rider riding in the opposite direction. Reaching the crest again, Lana felt her heart plummet.

The Rohirrim cut into the hordes of Mordor like a hot knife through butter. But the forces of the enemy were vast. Lana could easily see the riders getting surrounded on all sides. The city of Minas Tirith look like it had been bombed, though she knew better. The wall was crumbling in some spots, and the gates—which appeared huge even from this distance—were rent apart.

Words could not describe the scene—but she needed them desperately if she were ever to put pen to paper. But how could words do justice to the atrocities before her? It was unreal. Were she not seeing it with her own eyes she would have never believed it.

_I wish I had my camera!_

Then in a spurt of sudden inspiration, Lana remembered her iPhone. Rummaging quickly in the pockets of her backpack that she lashed to the back of the saddle she located the device. It had been weeks since she even thought about her phone, much less used it.

"Please work!" She mumbled turning on the mobile.

She wasn't sure if the battery would work at all now. The portable charger was dead and she feared that her phone had suffered the same fate.

"Come on! Come on, come on, come _on!"_

The screen at last glowed and the familiar Apple logo appeared. "Yes! Now hurry up—come on! Hurry up—hurry up—hurry up!"

Hasufel danced under her, sensing her tension. His ears were prick forward as he watched his brethren cut across the field. He snorted and tossed his head again.

"Got it!"

Hasufel jumped and it took Lana a moment to calm him down enough so she could get the shots she wanted. Then turning on the video camera Lana began filming. She wracked her brain for words but it took only seconds for her journalistic brain to snap into action.

"I am here on the plains just outside Minas Tirith, Gondor, where the armies of Mordor have been attacking the city. The Rohan army has just charged into the field. They are six thousand riders strong and could potentially turn the tide of this battle."

Angling around she had the camera take in the burning walls and the smoking city.

"You can see there is a significant amount of damage already done to the city. It looks like the insurgents have managed to breech the wall in several places. The main gate has been destroyed. The city itself is on fire. It is difficult to say how many lives have been lost, but it is clear that there are a significant number of casualties."

She turned the camera on herself.

"I will continue this report as more information becomes available. I had to sneak into King Théoden's army in order to come here. So far I have managed to keep out of danger, but this is a battle of monumental proportions and things can change very quickly."

Stopping the video she began snapping pictures again. It didn't occur to her that her photos and video would be useless once the device died. All that mattered to her was making a witness. Her brain was on automatic pilot and she was no longer aware of the danger or stupidity that her actions might bring. Nor did it occur to her that a lone rider on hill would be an easy target.

As the cavalry of Rohan made some headway onto the field she urged Hasufel a bit closer to the city. She was conscious enough to keep back from the fighting. While she had buried her fear she was not so blind as to do something outright foolish.

She hugged the enormous walls of the city. The outer wall was easily three hundred feet tall. Lana eyed the distance between herself and the fighting and determined she could edge a bit closer. Still snapping pictures she urged Hasufel onward at a sedate trot.

o0o

Unknown to Lana, Éowyn and Merry had also each defied Théoden's orders, and they rode together on Éowyn's mare. The lust of battle was on them as they rode with the rest of the herd, swords slashing and stabbing. But they were soon staring aghast at monstrously great beasts that emerged from the gloom.

Brobdingnagian tusked creatures from far distant lands to the south lumbered toward the riders. Each step of their massive feet shook the ground. As tall as a two-storied building, the animals bore massive saddles on their backs from which dozens of Haradrim fired deadly darts.

Reforming the battle line the riders charged the beasts. It was a testament to the courage of the horses of the Rohirrim that they did not flee. Despite their fear the horses dashed towards the lumbering giants, fleet as sparrows attacking a larger bird of prey. The horses with their riders dodged and wheeled around the towering legs, but their arrows and spears did nothing to slow the massive mûmakil.

Bloodlust held Éowyn captive and it rubbed off on Merry. They were ahead of the charge. Windfola's mane flew like a banner as the mare boldly zipped in and out of the beasts' legs. Éowyn circled the animals, looking for a weak spot she knew _must_ be there. At last a brilliant but kamikaze idea formed in her mind. Throwing the reins to Merry she snatched up his sword from his unprepared hands.

The hobbit fumbled to grab the reins even as Éowyn began shouting directions at him. "Right!"

Wide-eyed Merry tugged right. Éowyn hefted the weapon in each hand and slashed at the tendons of one oliphaunt. The beast bellowed, its voice deafening.

"Left! LEFT!"

They barely missed being trampled but managed to dodge the stamping foot of the enraged animal.

Across the battlefield, her brother took aim at another of the oliphaunt wranglers. With an impressive throw of his spear Éomer hit the man clean in the heart. The rider fell off the mûmkil's head, the great reins tangled about his dangling body.

The corpse jerked on the leads sending the animal bellowing and careening into another. They toppled over making the earth rumble beneath them.

Lana watched from her distant position in abject horror. She could not see Éowyn or Éomer or any individual rider, but she saw the devastation. The mutant elephant creatures were decimating the Rohan army. Urging Hasufel to the left, she drew away from the walls to hide in a dip of the land. Bringing out her phone again she started filming once more.

"I don't believe this!" She whispered aloud.

Unexpectedly a soul-shuddering screech punctured the air. Hasufel whinnied in pure terror and Lana screamed. She clutched at the horse's mane, dropping her phone in the process.

Unmitigated fright filled her entire body and soul. Its cold fingers wrapped around her mind, and immediately she recalled that night by the Anduin River. It was so long ago but she remembered the degrading fear. That mind numbing panic the Fellowship experienced was exactly like this, except now it was multiplied a hundred—no a _thousand_ times over!

Panting like an animal, Lana shrieked inanely. She wanted to flee but she felt petrified. Her eyes rolled about seeking out the source of her fear. Eyes dilated, she looked all together like a woman gone mad. Hasufel reared again, kicking his hooves high. Suddenly he tripped and fell over, taking Lana down with him. The shock of hitting the earth and the several thousand pound animal landing on her leg stunned her.

Hasufel was up in a flash snorting and squealing, but Lana lay winded on the earth. Above her dark shadows moved and she threw her hands up in pure panic. When they had passed, she gasped and rolled over. She couldn't stand up. She could barely hold herself on her hands and knees. Everything felt like jelly and she weebled unsteadily like a newborn.

Still crying like a child for her mother, Lana scoured the earth for her phone. She found it at last—completely crushed by Hasufel's frantic flailing.

Senselessly she began to cry.

Indiscriminate pain was flooding her body but she operated on sheer autopilot. Her brain blocked out the messages from her abused leg and side as merely _surviving_ overshadowed everything else. Dazed she couldn't tell if her leg was broken or not. A strange pins and needles sensation had taken over her lower extremities. There was a distracting ringing in her head mostly likely due to her fall.

Everything felt oddly disconnected. It was like she was detached from her body except the fear that continued to follow her. She couldn't escape it. Swallowing large gulps of air she struggled to calm herself. She fumbled with the pieces of her phone trying to put it back together.

In the distance, she heard another demon elephant bellow and hit the earth. Looking up through tear stained eyes she saw the battle raged on…

But as for herself—she was no longer hidden.

* * *

_Thanks for reading. Reviews feed the muse! _


	47. The Aftermath

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.**

I don't own anything of Tolkien's Middle Earth. I just play there.

* * *

**Chapter 46: The Aftermath**

Flames devoured the many tiers of the city. Blood stained the fields of Pelennor to nearly black, there was so much of it. The beleaguered city was crying out for help when the black ships pulled into the harbor.

"Late as usual! Pirate scum!" An orc commander groused as the ships came to port. "There's knife work here that needs doing! Come on ye sea-rats, get off yer ships!"

Much to the orc commander's surprise it was not pirates who came forth but three very odd hunters: a dwarf, and an elf, and a man with a gleam of something deadly and royal in his eye. It set the orc's already cold heart to ice.

The company behind the commander looked on utterly gobsmacked. Gimli smirked. "There's plenty for the both of us, may the best dwarf win!" He said as the trio moved towards the enemy.

Legolas eyed them with barely contained vehemence and cold intent. Today would be a good day for slaying. Aragorn lifted Andúril. It caught the light and gleamed with a flash of silver.

Behind them in a sudden rush came thousands of warriors—ghastly and horrifying to behold. They cut down the enemy like wheat.

Legolas, seemingly recovered from his strange sea-illness, fought with a fervor that he had never experienced before. It was like a spell was upon him and he moved with a speed that surpassed his usual swiftness. He began counting off his kills even as Gimli did—he with arrows and Gimli by lopping off heads with his ax.

The ghost army began eating into the orc ranks quickly but there were enough left to satisfy all the warriors' battle lust.

Legolas fought like a warrior of the First Age, immutable and unstoppable. The scum of Mordor fled before his face. Those that managed to escape were immediately picked off by the ghoulish hoard.

The tide of battle was beginning to change.

o0o

Lana dragged herself to her feet. Hasufel was still dancing about when she called to him and grabbed the saddle. Hauling herself up was not an easy task, but she knew if she didn't get back in the saddle she would be a sitting duck. With an audible huff of air she landed on Hasufel's back. Glancing over her shoulder she swore and kicked the stallion hard. They went speeding off towards the gates of the city. Several orcs on wargs pursued them. She hoped to give her pursuers the slip so she could double back and head north.

Swerving and dodging she tried vainly to elude her pursuers, but the wargs were as fast as they were ugly. And they were cunning. Lana was unable to reroute. Instead the enemy pushed her further south and east. They managed to get between her and the wall, and like demented shepherd dogs, the wargs forced Hasufel toward the nearest lines of orcs.

_Theodore-fucking-Roosevelt!_ Lana kicked Hasufel again hoping against hope he could outpace their pursuers. But the land was hilly here and it slowed them down considerably. Pulling out her sword Lana slashed at anything that came near. Hasufel kicked and bit as well, but they were soon overwhelmed.

In the far distance she saw a hair-raising greenish glow. Not knowing what to think she focused her attention back to her immediate surroundings. Hasufel came to a sliding halt as a riderless warg leapt up from the grass. Lana shouted and brandished her sword. The need to survive pushed her to fight harder—but it made her sloppy. It wasn't long before she was pulled from the saddle.

An orc grabbed her by the thigh and pulled her roughly to the ground. Her already bruised and battered body bounced against the rough earth. The wind was knocked out of her again but this time she moved quickly; unfiltered adrenaline was shooting through her veins giving her a strength she would otherwise not have. Thrusting upward she buried her sword into the orc's neck.

It stuck in the gore and bone and was wrenched out of her hand as the beast fell. Another orc lunged at her reaching for her throat. With a cry she pulled out her knife as slashed it across the eyes. Hot putrid black blood poured onto her face.

Gagging she kicked the screaming creature off of her. She raked the blood from her eyes and saw Hasufel was fending off a warg. The monster snapped its jaws at her beloved stallion. The click of its yellow teeth made Hasufel flatten his ears. Without a thought Lana threw her knife. Amazingly it actually buried itself in the animal's muzzle. It howled.

Shaking its heavy hyena-shaped head, the beast snarled and then charged her. Desperately, Lana wrenched her sword free from the orc corpse and jumped aside slashing at the fell-beast. She was clumsy and struggled to regain a steady position.

The warg came at her again and she barely missed losing an arm. One of its teeth caught on her chainmail and it whipped her sideways. Hasufel reappeared then. He turned and kicked the warg breaking its jaw. Howling the animal stumbled and fell, its shattered mouth hanging awkwardly.

Lunging forward unsteadily, Lana plunged her sword into the animal's neck, throwing all her weight against it. The warg struggled but its life poured out onto the scarred earth beneath them. Lana's hands were slick with black blood and carnage. Her fingers throbbed and she glanced down noticing that the middle and third fingers on her right had stuck out at a strange angle.

Unaware that she was being stalked, she stared at her hand with a weird sort of detachment. Then something grabbed her hair and she screamed. Throwing up her elbow she felt a gruesome crunch as bone broke bone. The orc who had attacked her screeched vilely.

She tried to get away but it latched onto her violently. They fell together and the wind rushed out of her chest. Gasping and terrified she looked up as her attacker snarled and cursed her. It grabbed her by the throat and threw her against the ground repeatedly. Her head struck a stone. Before she blacked out she saw a knife poised above her.

_Legolas…_

o0o

Beyond all belief and hope the Men of the West pulled through victorious. But it was a hard price that was paid. The sheer carnage reeked as enemy lay with enemy. The damage done to the Rohan army would take generations to restore. Bodies of men and horses lay mingled with orcs, trolls, and wargs. The gargantuan mûmakil corpses looked like gray hills on the field.

Gandalf passed through the gates, his heart grievously awed by the sight. Pippin poked his head out from behind the wizard. His brown eyes were wide with disbelief. Seeing Aragorn alive made a smile touch the wizard's lips: the first in many days. The man was worn, beaten, bruised, and bloodied, but the keen fire that was kindled in his eyes did not go out.

They greeted each other solemnly, but their reunion was brought up short by a shout of pure misery. Turning, the remaining Fellowship saw Éomer dash to a body. His eyes were wild as he picked up a fallen soldier. Aragorn frowned as he saw the long fall of golden hair.

_"Éowyn! Éowyn!"_ Her brother cried brokenly.

A knife of dread tore at the Ranger's heart. _No…_

The Shield Maiden of Rohan lay as if dead. Swiftly Aragorn went to Éomer's side. The Marshal lifted his tear stained face to him. Gently Aragorn took the maiden's hand. Her arm was broken but what worried him more was the icy cold that gripped the maiden.

Looking about he saw the dead beast of the Nazgûl. Its head was severed from its scaly body and black blood pooled around it. Nearby was dark stain, like a scorch mark, and a heavy mace. Aragorn's eyes widened. Wonder eclipsed fear as he read the signs around him. _Could it be?_

There would be no knowing for certain, not unless the lady could be saved. He turned back to the maiden and held his ear hear her mouth. The faintest of breaths passed between her lips.

"She lives…" he whispered, hardly daring to hope. "Éomer she lives! Make haste! We must get her to the Houses of Healing!"

And so began the brutal task of searching for the living among the dead. All day the people scoured the field, seeking friends and family. Laments flew up on the air. The sun began to set, and still soldiers and the denizens of Gondor searched the fields.

Aragorn worked tirelessly. He cinched up wounds, set bones, and held hands of those who were passing. As for Éowyn, she had been touched by the Witch King, but he had finally saved her. She rested in a peaceful sleep now. But it had been close. Far too close.

Éomer did not leave her side.

Legolas and Gimli did what they could, fetching, carrying, and transporting the wounded. They helped the Rohan army pitch its rough camp before the broken gates of the city.

Pippin did what he could too, but when he asked after Merry none could say. No one knew if the hobbit had ridden with the Rohan army or not. Distraught, Pippin began searching the fields hoping to find his cousin, and yet also hoping he was not there.

Legolas was making yet another trek across the fields, this time leading Brego and Arod. The horses had remained on the ship during the battle. They were very pleased to see the elf for they had been grieved to be left aboard. Arod, in particular, made his irritation on being left behind quite clear. He head-butted the elf in the chest and shorted. A light chuckle left Legolas—the first in many days.

"I am glad to see you looking well too, my friend."

Arod snuffled the elf's hair and face. Legolas had faired quite well as far as battle wounds went. His fingers were scraped and his knuckles bruised and he was certain he would be feeling the other contusions on his body later. He had suffered a cut above his brow that had bled a bit, but was superficial.

Gimli was tough as stone and his skull just as thick, but he did manage to break a few toes, and he banged up his left knee. The damage was not permanent, but he did limp a little.

The battle had been by far the largest either of them had ever witnessed. It was good to come out of it relatively unscathed. Legolas' thoughts winged to Lana as he led the two stallions over the wreckage. He wondered if it would be possible to send word to her. He smiled as he imagined her wry expression. He could well image what she would say to him now. How he longed to see her! Yet just as quickly his spirit became restless as the wind changed, and with it came the faint salty scent of a not so distant ocean. Annoyed and frustrated he shook his head sharply.

"Something wrong with you, my lord?" A Rohirrim soldier asked.

"Eh, he's an elf. There's always something wrong with their kind," Gimli quipped, but the gleam of humor was in his eyes.

Legolas shot him an aggravated look but turned to the soldier. "My heart is merely grieved for those whose lives are now gone."

The soldier sighed and nodded. "'Tis a heavy thing to bear witness to," he agreed. "We lost so many…my brother, he—" Tears glistened abruptly in the man's eyes. Unable to finish, Legolas put a comradely hand on the man's shoulder.

Arod nickered loudly then, and Legolas regarded the horse. The stallion was looking towards the north, a short distance from the gates. Ears pricked forward he scented the air and nickered again. Legolas squinted in the gathering dusk. He saw another horse lift its head. It whinnied back. Excited now, Arod tugged on his reins.

"What's gotten into him?" Gimli groused, still not entirely trusting the animal even after all this time.

"He acts as if he's seen a friend." The soldier replied, his tears now gone.

Legolas inhaled sharply. Despite the darkening sky, he recognized the other horse.

"Lad?"

But Legolas ignored him. Dropping the reins he started striding then running over to the other steed. Arod bolted past him.

_No…no…no…no…! Please don't let it be!_

Hasufel nickered to him. The stallion was bleeding from multiple wounds and favoring a leg. He was struck with several arrows in his flank, but he was alive and happy to see the elf. Arod nosed his friend eagerly.

Legolas grabbed Hasufel's reins, his eyes scouring their surrounds. He hoped that someone had taken the horse to battle—that he had been commandeered by force. He didn't want his deepest fears to be true. His heart stopped when his gaze fell on a slim white hand. Shoving away an orc corpse he inhaled painfully.

There she lay like a flower, crushed and broken…Legolas felt his panic rise. He quickly lifted her into his arms.

"Lana? Lana!" He felt nothing, no flicker of breath, no movement. "No Lana! _Aiya Valar! Ú-nâ sen! Nay! Lana! Tolo dan nan galad!" This cannot be! Come back to the light!_

Desperately he picked up her slender hand noting the bruises, blood, and the twisted shape of her fingers. Her face was covered in dried blood. There was an oozing gouge above her left temple, near the hairline. He brushed her hair back, his heart in his throat. She did not react to him at all.

Eerily images of her in Helm's Deep came to his mind, except this time she was not burning with fever. No. She was cold. Deathly cold.

_"Cannen le dartha! Am man agorel ú-lastad?"_ He glared at her unresponsive face. Without his consent tears gathered in his eyes. _I told you to stay. Why did you not listen?_

_"Ú-gwanno nín,"_ he begged her. _Do not leave me._

Gimli came jogging up to his side. His breath caught seeing the woman now gathered in Legolas' arms.

"What—what is she doing here?" He asked bewildered.

Legolas turned bewilderedly to the dwarf. "Gimli…"

Hasufel snorted then and nudged Lana's shoulder. Distressed Legolas pushed the stallion away speaking sharply. Suddenly there was a flutter under her eyelids.

"Lana!" Legolas exclaimed. "Lana, can you hear me?"

With shaking hands he stroked her dirty face. The black orc blood that had dried on her cheeks flaked away at the elf's touch. Her lips parted and both the dwarf and elf froze straining to hear. The faintest of breaths whispered through her cracked lips.

"Get her to Aragorn," Gimli ordered grimly. When Legolas did not move Gimli shook him hard. "What are you waiting for, lad? Go!"

Shocked out of his paralyzed state, Legolas hastily rose with Lana limp in his arms. He called to Arod. The stallion bore no saddle but it mattered not. In feat only an elf could do, he pulled himself up with Lana in his grasp. He cradled her close to him and turned the stallion about.

"Look for me in the healing house!" He told Gimli.

Kicking the horse he spurred Arod onward and through the gates. Hasufel whinnied loudly behind them. _Faster!_ He urged the gray stallion. Their progress was slowed by debris and blocked roads. Legolas grit his teeth. Lana's head lolled back against his shoulder only to fall forward as they skidded and started. Wheeling around a fallen wall, Legolas forced Arod to jump. Multiple times they flew over rocks, fallen stone, and wood. His metal shoes sparked on the cobblestones. Any who saw them fled away in terror thinking they saw a ghost from the battlefield or of an age long past.

Up and up Legolas rode until he reached the sixth ring, where the Houses of Healing stood. He pushed Arod right past the two guards stationed before the building and rode straight into the courtyard, up to the very steps of the ward.

An older healer with a blood stained apron appeared. "What is the meaning of this?" He cried. "What is that animal doing here?"

"Where is Aragorn?" The elf said ignoring the man's protesting.

The healer looked Legolas over. "What business do you have with him?"

Legolas dismounted, his face like thunder and the healer cowered back.

"I am Legolas, son of Thranduil, King of the Woodland Realm. Tell me where Aragorn is!"

Sputtering the healer backed out of the elf's way. "He is resting, my lord—it is his first respite all day!" The healer ran after him. "Who do you bear, my lord? Surely I or one of Gondor's finest healers can tend to her."

Legolas whirled on the man. "I cannot risk failure!" Legolas snapped. "Take me to Aragorn. Now!"

All the commotion brought the Ranger forth. "Legolas? What—"

"Aragorn! _Na Lana!" It is Lana!_

Shocked beyond all belief, the man stared at the limp form in the elf's arms. For a moment, his heart ceased to beat.

"What is she—"

"There is no time! You must help her!" The elf pleaded.

Aragorn swiftly guided Legolas to the room where he had been resting. It was the only room left that had an open bed. He quickly instructed Legolas to lay her down.

"My lord?" The healer from the door poked his head in uncertainly.

"Hirgon, bring me hot water, astringent, and bandages. Quickly!" Hirgon quickly left to perform his tasks. "Where did you find her?" Aragorn asked as he laid hands on her.

Still panicked Legolas filled in the details of finding Hasufel and discovering Lana crushed beneath a body of an orc.

"I know not how she came to ride with the Rohirrim," Legolas said in growing distress. "I know not why she is here! Why is she here, Estel? She was supposed to be safe," his voice trembled.

Lana had not moved since they arrived at the house, but Aragorn had assured him that she was still drawing breath.

"Foolish woman!" Aragorn whispered harshly. "Help me get her out of this chainmail."

Together they worked to rid her of the armor that still covered her body. Aragorn noted how the elven prince's fingers shook. Legolas was desperate and he could no longer control the roiling emotions that coursed through him. His misery was quickly filling the room, and Aragorn had to take a step back for a moment. He swallowed knowing that his friend would be more of a hindrance than a help.

Hirgon returned with the required items. Aragorn quickly instructed him to begin washing Lana's face, and then he turned to Legolas. "You must wait outside, _mellon nín."_

Legolas' brows drew low over his eyes. He shook his head defiantly. Aragorn gripped the elf by the shoulders. "Legolas, we need space to work and we cannot afford any distractions."

The elf wasn't looking at him. His eyes were glued to the healer Hirgon as he began cutting away the tunic that Lana wore. His nostril's flared. Seeing this, Aragorn physically turned him towards the door. Speaking in Sindarin he added, _"Hirgon is an experienced healer. Together we can help, Lana. You know this."_

Bowing his head, Legolas once more was forced to leave the one he loved in the hands of others. It pained him beyond describable words. Lifting his gaze he implored the man with a grilling stare.

_"Edraith dín, Estel." Save her, Estel._

Aragorn nodded at the command. He would do nothing less; he only hoped that Lana was not beyond saving.

Legolas felt his world come to a standstill as the door closed in his face. For a long time he stood unmoving. At last he turned and leaned against the wall outside the door, arms folded across his chest. Healers came and went. The women who worked there offered him water and food but he stoutly refused. He would not break his fast until he knew how Lana fared.

Some twenty minutes later Gimli appeared with Gandalf. Legolas looked up and he felt his eyes go wide. In the wizard's arms was a small body. The elf then noticed Pippin running quickly after the two. There were tears in his eyes.

"Merry?" He whispered in disbelief.

Gandalf nodded grimly. "He has been struck by the Witch King. Where is Aragorn?"

Legolas' hands clenched into fists. He nodded at the closed door. "In there with…Lana…"

The wizard hid his surprise, but Pippin looked up at that. Legolas watched as Gandalf moved to open the door. His heart lurched._ No! Lana needs him! He must save her!_ It took every ounce of his strength to not prevent Gandalf from going in.

Legolas listened to the confusion of voices. He started to panic when a stretcher was called for. He barged in unable to stay away.

Lana was covered with a blanket now. Her right hand was splinted and a thick bandage ran around her head. In the confusion, he made it to her side. He saw the faint rise and fall of her chest and some of his agony eased.

Then everyone was who was not needed was forced out of the small room. Two stalwart healers came in and transferred Lana to a stretcher.

"Where are they taking her?" Legolas asked Aragorn, and then to the new aides, "Where are you taking her?"

"We need to transfer her to another part of the House." Hirgon answered him.

Panic set in once more as he watched them take Lana away. He immediately pivoted looking for Aragorn but he was already preparing to work on Merry. Before Hirgon moved away, Legolas gripped him by the front of his robes.

"What are her injuries? Why are you not tending her?"

Hirgon raised his hands in surrender but held the elf's gaze—just barely. "We have done all we could. Most of her wounds were superficial. The older would on her side opened again. Her right hand was out of joint and we set it. The cut on her head was not deep and will heal without a mark. There are various bruises and contusions on her body, but those will also heal. The only injury I worry over is," Hirgon paused.

"Is what, Healer?" Legolas demanded sharply.

Hirgon met the prince's unsettling gaze. His lips were set into a firm line. "The blow to her head."

"What mean you?" Legolas demanded, pulling up on the man's robes.

Hirgon grasped at the elf's steely fists. "Peace, my lord! We have done what we can for her! But head injuries are unpredictable. Some recover and others don't—and some are never the same afterward…" the healer stuttered.

Legolas glared at him demanding clarification.

"She could wake up—well, I mean to say that she might be…well, you know…_slow."_

Legolas' eyes flashed and the healer cowered. "For your sake, you had better pray that your words do not come to pass!" He hissed and released the man.

Gimli who had witnessed the entire exchange opened his mouth to speak, but Legolas brushed past him. Like a dark storm he pursued the stretcher. Gimli took a step to follow, but then hesitated. The elf would not welcome any company he decided, and he chose to wait with Pippin outside the door to Merry's room.

* * *

_Whew! Very intense. Reviews feed the muse!_

_As always thanks for reading!_


	48. Awake

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.**

I don't own anything of Tolkien's Middle Earth. I just play there.

* * *

**Chapter 47: Awake**

Legolas had not moved during the long hours of the night. They had placed Lana on a pallet in the corner of the house. It was partitioned off from the other wounded by a curtain and nothing more. The infirmary was overwhelmed with wounded and dying men—their moans and cries echoed plaintively off the walls. Merry occupied the last bed.

Legolas could not fault him for that. No, but he could not understand why they did not move one of those whose wounds were not so grievous. Surely there was someone who did not need a bed? The thought was uncharitable, but the elf could not help himself.

He longed to hold Lana in his arms, knowing that his body would be more comfortable than the hard stone floor on which the pallet lay. But the healers had warned him about moving her. With a head wound it was imperative that she be kept still. Hearing this only added to his grief. Had he been foolish to ride with her so carelessly through the broken streets of the city? Had he caused her more damage by his desperate actions? The mere thought caused him to feel physically sick.

He kept a constant vigil by her side after being told that someone would need to be there throughout the night. She could pass unexpectedly at any moment, and without warning. Such was the nature of a concussion they explained to him. The words were like daggers in his flesh. Once alone with her he had crumbled onto the floor.

For the first time in more years than he could remember, tears flowed heedlessly from his eyes. He couldn't stop them—didn't _want_ to stop them. His beloved lay broken and all they could do, all _he_ could do was sit and wait.

It was the worst thing to tell any warrior. Inaction was the antithesis of their kind, and Legolas wasn't any different. Except that he _loved_. Love was supposed to overcome all obstacles—love conquers all! Hadn't that been what everyone said? What history, myths, and legends told? Yet here his love, _his_ Lana, was laid out as if to be entombed.

Dark thoughts plagued his mind and he struggled to find hope. He sat by her side, holding her splinted hand delicately within his own. He sang softly to her, stroked her hair and prayed. The glaring similarity of this situation to Helm's Deep was not lost on the elf. Those painful hours he hoped to never relive stretched before him again like déjà vu.

He ground his teeth when his body trembled. It was all he could do to suppress the wild emotions that surged within him. He wanted to rail against heaven and hell—he wanted to curse and beg the Valar—but most of all he longed to shake Lana awake so that he might kiss her and steal away the madness that prompted her to ride with the Rohirrim.

He was so _angry!_ It warred with his love for her. He was angry with her—more than angry—_livid!_ But she might never know it. It was ironic really. Before he feared she might never know of his love for her. Now he feared she would never know his fury. It was a bizarre sentiment. He didn't understand it any more than he understood his feelings of love. But it had a potency all its own.

He shuddered again.

All he knew was that he wanted to make her understand—to have her see the error of her ways—to hear her apologize for her stupidity. How could she have done this?! How could she have taken their love for granted?

Legolas trembled again.

Sometime in the late hours of the night, Aragorn found them. The Ranger looked beyond exhausted.

He sighed seeing the elf kneeling by Lana's side. It was a sight he never wanted to see again—not after Helm's Deep. Yet here it was: Lana once more recklessly ignoring all sense and orders.

"How fares she?"

Legolas' eyes didn't leave her face. "The same. At times, her body shakes as if possessed by some fear or chill, but it is brief and then she lays still."

Aragorn nodded, hoping that the tremors would be a passing thing. Out of all the injuries, he knew that those to the head could be the most agonizing to bear witness to. The affects left on those who survived the trauma could be heart wrenching.

Kneeling down opposite the elf, Aragorn laid a gentle hand on Lana's forehead. Drawing on the very last of his healing abilities he sought out her mind. He sensed a dark mist surrounding her, like a heavy fog—there was no malice in it—just dark unconsciousness.

"Will she heal?" Legolas' question seemed to be dredged up from deep inside his soul.

Aragorn closed his eyes, wishing he could spare his friend. _"Ú-istan."_ He felt more than heard the elf's grief. "Only time will tell." He stroked the woman's head gently.

Legolas drew in a ragged breath. "Why is she here, Estel? She was supposed to be safe, in Edoras…with…Éowyn…" His voice faded into a whisper.

The Lady Éowyn had also defied orders and rode into battled. A new thought entered Legolas' bereaved mind. _Had she convinced Lana to ride with her? Was this the Shield Maiden's fault?_

Aragorn bowed his head. "I know not…we have more questions than answers. For now."

Placing his hand on the elf's shoulder he squeezed it and then left, seeking his own respite before he collapsed. As for Legolas, he continued his vigil for the rest of the night.

o0o

Everything hurt. All she knew as hazy consciousness returned a severe agony came with it. The more she tried to figure out the source the more pain she felt. Blindly she wondered if she had been in a car accident. There was a ringing between her ears that seemed to block out all sound.

Dimly she felt a hand glide over her hair and the side of her face. It was the only thing that felt _good_. Instinctively she moved towards it hoping that it would banish all the pain she was feeling. But that slight movement caused a blaze of torment to shoot through her.

"Do not move, _meleth nín."_ An urgent yet relieved voice said.

She swallowed, her throat dry as sandpaper. _Who is that?_ She felt a cup touch her lips and cool wet liquid kissed her parched skin. Greedily she drank.

"Slowly, _Melethril_, slowly,"

The cup was taken away before she was ready, and she moaned trying to chase it with her hand. But she couldn't lift it. She couldn't even open her eyes. Everything felt so heavy…and so painful. It was too much.

_Water…_ She pleaded in her mind. _Please…_

Soon the cup returned and again she drank. It was once more taken away before she had her fill. Her stomach garbled noisily but she didn't understand why this person kept teasing her with only small sips.

A hand smoothed over her face again.

_Where…?_

She struggled to open her eyes. Her voice didn't work either it seemed. Feeling distressed she stared to cry.

_"Shh…avo nallo,"_ the voice soothed._ "Non sí…non sí." Do not cry. I am here…I am here._

_Who is that? Where am I? What happened?_ Her head hurt so badly. While she saw only black behind her eyes, a white pain shot through her brain, as if her synapses had short-circuited. Why did she hurt?

"How is she?" A new voice asked.

"She is stirring, but I know not if she can hear me,"

A rustling sound and then a new cool hand on her skin. This touch was rougher as if the hand bore calluses, but it was kind.

"She suffers." The new voice stated bluntly.

Then there was whispering—almost like chanting—but she couldn't tell what language was being spoken. In her mind a new light grew. It hurt at first but then it created a soothing numbness. She felt a thumb near her temple rub soothingly.

At last she opened her eyes. The world was blurred and didn't make sense. It took a moment for light and shadow to translate into objects. Then finally everything came into focus. She saw a low ceiling made of stone above her. It was touched by a warm light… _T__he sun…sunlight…_

Lowing her gaze she saw two faces, both highly concerned—but one appeared to be in so much pain that she wanted to close her eyes again. It hurt to look at him. The other was a kindly face, bearded. He looked very white to her—white hair, white beard, white robes._ So much white._

_He looks like a wizard…I…wait…I know him…who…?_

The other, whose gaze was piercing her through, was fair and golden. His eyes were the color of the sky. Something nagged at her. She knew him too, but her mind was jumbled. She felt a hurricane had been in her head and she was only just now aware of the damage. Thoughts, faces, names all floated in the wreckage caused by a swelling in her brain. When she tried to pull the flotsam together into a coherent thought it caused her body to tremble.

"Lana," the golden one breathed, nearly sobbed she noted.

"You gave us quite the scare, little one." The older man said.

She looked at them confused. What did they mean? Opening her lips she tried to speak but only a cracked noise issued forth. The old man nodded to the other and the golden one pressed a cup to her lips. Again sweet cool water touched her. When he was about to pull it away she managed to lift her hand. It hurt. Confused she saw a hand that was thickly splinted.

Not understanding she stared at it. She couldn't quite make out that it was _her_ hand that she saw. The connection between her brain and her body also seemed disrupted—delayed even. Nothing made sense. She looked back to the two people with her. That "something" nagged at her. She felt that she _knew_ them, but she couldn't recall from where. Or why.

A rising panic started in her gut and started welling up to her head. Her brain was struggling to keep up with the questions she threw at it. It sought neural pathways that should be there but were blocked. It hurt.

Gandalf quickly saw the confusion in Lana's eyes, and his heart heaved a heavy sigh. He had feared this. The woman was looking at them strangely. He could see that she was confused, trying to remember. There was partial recognition in her eyes, though. And that gave him some hope.

"…Where…?" She croaked after drinking her fill.

"You are in the Houses of Healing," Gandalf told her slowly. "In Minas Tirith. You have been injured."

Lana blinked slowly at them, no connections forming. "Where?"

Legolas turned to the wizard, and Gandalf could sense the elven prince's rising panic.

"Minas Tirith. You rode here with the Rohirrim." Legolas told her emotionally, gently taking her hand.

Lana looked at him, her eyes taking him in and glancing many times at his ears. _I know him. Who…?_

"I…I don't…" she started to shake her head and then gasped. Cringing she whimpered.

Legolas was quick to react. "Do not move, _meleth nín!_ You suffered a blow to the back of your head. You have much healing to do."

Gandalf watched the woman closely as she panted and cried. "Where am I?" She asked again. There was panic in her voice.

Legolas looked helplessly at the wizard. Speaking softly in Sindarin, the wizard said, _"It appears that her memory has suffered."_

Legolas' eyes grew wide._ "What do you mean? How can it be that she does not remember?"_

Gandalf sighed, glancing at Lana who was staring wide-eyed at them in bewilderment. There was some recognition in her eyes—like a dimly lit candle in the dark. But it was just one lone light against a yawning darkness, and it wasn't enough. They could see her trying to piece things together but it was costing her. She grimaced again.

_"The blow to her head has caused this."_ He told the prince sadly.

_"But her memories will return, will they not? Gandalf?"_

The wizard sighed. He did not want to say this, but Legolas needed to know.

_"I cannot say. Injuries of this nature are unpredictable. She might recover them. She might not. Only time will tell."_

Legolas shuddered and he looked at Lana with intense grief. She stared at him alarmed. Clearly she was sensing the elf's torment along with witnessing it. Suddenly, Gandalf had a thought. If she was _sensing_ the elf's feelings, then perhaps the bond between them was stronger than he originally suspected.

"We must not lose faith," Gandalf said suddenly. "Your memory can return." He told Lana. She looked at him, bewildered. But the wizard only gave her a warm smile. "I shall return, but for now, take some rest."

Rising he beckoned Legolas to follow him. Slowly the elf capitulated. Lana watched suddenly afraid. He was leaving!—Leaving her! She didn't want him to leave. Desperately she reached out, her heart screaming a name that found it's way to her lips.

"Legolas!"

Both the elf and wizard froze. Instantly Legolas was kneeling by her side once more, his hands stroking her gently, his eyes shining with tears.

"What happened? I don't remember!" She gasped as agony raced through her entire body.

Her head throbbed and she reached up touching the thick bandage wrapped around it. Legolas tried to soothe her but she started to shake violently in pain. Gandalf was quick to react and cast a sleeping spell on her.

Legolas was close to panting. It felt like his soul was being wrenched from his body. How could this have happened? That question had plagued him since he first found her outside the gates of the city.

Gandalf put a hand on his shoulder then instructed him to follow. Legolas' posture slumped with unbearable grief. "Will she recover, Mithrandir?" He asked once on the other side of the curtain.

"I cannot say, but I have hope. It is good that she recognized you. I must speak with Aragorn, but I shall return soon."

Leaning closer his gaze bore into Legolas', "Be gentle with her, Thranduilion. Do not cause her mind too much distress or it could hinder her healing. Smile and speak lightly. Do not question her! Forcing the memories to return can do more harm than good."

Legolas held his gaze, his usually masked face fractured to reveal an elf in torment and fear. Patting him again, the wizard left to seek out Aragorn.

Legolas watched him go and then he quivered like a deer. He felt like he was going to be sick. He gazed with sudden longing towards an open archway. The sun was shining and birds sang in the courtyard. He could hear a fountain babbling soothingly, hidden behind the foliage somewhere. He glanced back to the curtain behind which Lana now slept.

How had this happened? How did it all go so wrong? His anger resurfaced. How could she do this to them—to _him?_ Was her life of so little value to her that she would throw herself into heinous battle not once but _twice?!_

He clenched his fists. How he wanted to shake her or kiss her senseless!—either way, until she listened to reason! With a shuddering gasp, he leaned against the nearest stone wall.

Gandalf had said not to loose hope. And Lana was alive—that much he did have. And his heart felt some solace that she recognized him, but the dread in her eyes made him fearful. She seemed truly confused by the place names of Minas Tirith and Rohan. How much had she forgotten? Did she remember his love for her? Would the lost memories ever return? And what if they didn't? What then? An unexpected stab pierced his heart.

Legolas realized that he was scared. More scared than he had ever been in his life. Swallowing he turned and went back to where Lana lay.

* * *

_Thoughts?_

_Thank you all for your kind reviews. I love hearing from you and getting your feedback!_

_And as always, thanks for reading._


	49. The Mind Is A Curious Thing

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.**

I don't own anything of Tolkien's Middle Earth. I just play there.

* * *

**Chapter 48: The Mind Is A Curious Thing**

The moment Gandalf found him Aragorn knew something was wrong. "Merry?" He asked in sudden alarm, but the wizard shook his head. "Lana?"

With a sigh, Gandalf sat down on a bench. _I am too old for war,_ the wizard thought wryly.

"Did she pass?" Aragorn asked in sudden fear.

"No. No, she is quite alive, but…not entirely well," Gandalf replied slowly.

Frowning Aragorn stepped around so he could better see the wizard's face. A new dread settled in the Ranger's heart—one of many. He wasn't sure how much more he could take.

"She appears to have suffered the loss of her memory."

Aragorn inhaled. It had been one of his greatest fears as he treated her yesterday. The back of her skull had been fractured. There was significant swelling and that could affect any number of things. Not to dismiss the amount of blood loss from her head wound. While not deep, the gouge had bleed profusely.

"She did not recognize me when she woke, but at the last moment she recognized Legolas." Gandalf continued. "I was forced to cast her into a deep healing sleep when she grew agitated."

The Ranger looked down. He knew there was nothing much they could do but hope and pray. Even the greatest of Elven healers could be rendered useless against a broken mind.

It was such a peculiar thing—the mind.

Aragorn rubbed the Ring of Barahir with his thumb. It was still a mystery to him why Lana was here. She had said so herself that she was not a warrior, and she did not wish to fight. But she had been desperate to come nonetheless.

What had been the push that brought Lana here? Was it bereavement of love so newly found and then taken away? Or was it something else entirely?

His lips thinned as he conjured her image in his mind. She lay broken and pale in the Houses of Healing. Never had he wanted to witness her in such a state. Not after Helm's Deep. But foolishness or madness—or both—ruled her logic it seemed.

He circled back to the haunting question: _W__hy is she here?_ All signs pointed that Lana was intelligent enough to _not_ have come. She was not one to take undue risks. Her mind was sharp and calculating. When she made a decision she made it with intention.

Yes she had her demons, but everyone had their own. And Lana was all the stronger for hers. He knew this with utter certainty. He wracked his brain for clues to the reason why she was in Minas Tirith. She had been dressed in armor, which led Aragorn to believe she came of her own volition. Had she and Éowyn conspired together?

His mind had been so consumed with saving this city, with Elrond's message, and with being victorious that Lana had fallen to the wayside. Guilt seized him. If he had been more attentive perhaps he would have seen this coming. Then maybe he would know the answers to the questions that now hung above his head.

"How is Legolas?" He dreaded the answer.

Gandalf's wise eyes met his own. "Much as you fear, but I believe he will do her good."

Something in the way Gandalf said those words lifted Aragorn's spirit. "Do you believe her memories shall return?"

The wizard pursued his lips. "I cannot say, but I am hopeful since she remembered our Mirkwood Prince."

Looking down, Aragorn felt his sorrows build. Yet Gandalf's next words made him lift his head in speculation.

"I have sensed that the bond between Legolas and Lana may be stronger than any of us realized. This could be the key to her recovery."

Aragorn looked intently at Gandalf. "Then all may not be lost."

o0o

Drawing a bracing breath Legolas returned to Lana's side. She continued to sleep, but there was a residual frown on her lips. Kneeling down he brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. She stirred, and Legolas silently cursed himself. Slowly she woke again, her eyes unfocused. Then she looked up at him, her dark blue eyes distressed and muddled. Forcing a smile he spoke to her.

"It does my heart well to see you awake, _meleth nín."_

She frowned and her eyes held a nervous tinge. Legolas could see her trying to work things out. "Legolas…" She seemed to be trying to reassure herself that she was correct in calling him thus. He nodded forcing his expression to be light, though his heart was splintering.

Her eyes roamed the space they were in. Then she squeezed her eyes shut. "What happened? How did I get here? And where…where is Aidan? Is he here?" She asked.

Legolas froze at that last question. Alarm shot through him but he recalled Gandalf's words. He must not upset her. Swallowing back his anguish he shook his head. "Nay. Your brother is not here." He said in a forced light tone.

"But he will be here soon, right?"

Legolas stilled unsure of what to say. Luckily the entrance of a healer's apprentice saved him.

"Good morn, milady. I'm happy to see you awake. We've had far too many pass in the night," she said sadly, then glancing to Legolas she added, "Milord. I have come to see if milady would like to try eating something."

Legolas glanced at Lana unsure if she should take food or not, but she needed nourishment.

"I'll bring her something simple, good for the stomach." The orderly assured him. Then she curtsied and left them.

He glanced at Lana who was looking very perplexed. "What is it?"

"I can't figure out why she was calling me 'milady.' I'm not a 'milady.'"

"She was merely being polite," Legolas offered. "It is a term of deference." He spoke as if she should know this.

Lana pursed her lips her gaze lowering. Legolas admonished himself again. But when she looked up at him once more he recognized a familiar fire in her eyes. She was still working things out, and she stared at him speculatively. It gave his heart hope. It was tenuous but he took it.

"Yes well, it's perhaps a bit medieval don't you think?" She grunted trying to shift into a more upright position.

The motion upset her re-sewn arrow wound as well as the rest of her body. She gasped and Legolas immediately reached for her. "Lie still, _Melethril_, you hurt more than just your head."

Grimacing she gritted her teeth and looked at him. "What does that mean? Mel—Mele-thrill."

Any hope he had disappeared. It took all his effort to not crumble into despair as she said that. He clung to the fact that she knew him, and while that should be enough for now, it wasn't. He was greedy. He wanted more—he wanted her whole and hale, and smiling in his arms.

And he couldn't stand not seeing the love in her eyes that belonged to him.

It was getting more difficult to keep up the ruse, but Legolas forced himself to smile. "It is a term of endearment." He replied simply as his heart wept.

Lana closed her eyes slowly and exhaled. Under her breath he heard her say again, "What happened? I was hit on the head? …I don't remember…"

He was about to reply when Aragorn appeared. Legolas looked at the Ranger with a mixture of relief and wretchedness. Sharing a glance, the elf knew that he had been told. Lana opened her eyes and started slightly upon seeing the Ranger.

"Good morning," Aragorn greeted.

"Hello," she replied cautiously. She eyed him with suspicion but then it evolved into something else. Again there was a speculative look in her eyes. As if she knew that she should know this man; but who he was escaped her just then.

"I'm glad that you are awake."

She lifted a brow. "You're not the first to say that."

Aragorn chuckled then surprising both Legolas and Lana. She peered at him closely then.

"How are you feeling?" Aragorn asked.

Lana sighed frustrated and closed her eyes. "Truthfully? I feel like was hit by a bus," she grimaced. Carefully she turned her face to study the man again. A slight frown tugged at her lips.

"Do you remember who I am?" Aragorn asked half fearing her answer.

Lana frowned, her face reflective. Very slowly she replied. "Yes…You're…Hope," she shook her head knowing that wasn't right, but then she hissed as the movement made lightening shoot through her skull. Her brains felt swollen and any tiny motion seemed to set off an electrical storm in her head.

Both the man and Legolas jumped to ease her pain. Blinking through a film of tears she looked up at the man.

"You are half right," he said with a faint smile. "Some call me Estel, which is Sindarin for hope."

Recognition lit her gaze like a Roman candle. "Aragorn!" She started to cry as pain mingled with relief. "Oh, Aragorn!"

Legolas moved closer even as the Ranger knelt on her other side. He took her uninjured hand and kissed it. His hope soared.

"Easy now, don't over do it. Your memories will return. Do you remember anything else? The battle?"

"No," She choked out and closed her eyes.

Then she started to shake. Unnerved Legolas looked helplessly at Aragorn. But thankfully it was not like the tremors she suffered during the night. It was only tears, but they pricked at both their hearts.

"I don't remember _anything_._"_ She hiccupped. "I don't know where I am…I don't know why I'm hurting…I remember being in Lothlórien, but…" she gasped suffering both physically and mentally.

Legolas stiffened, and Aragorn saw the elf look away. The Mirkwood prince appeared as though he had been stabbed in the heart. If she recalled only Lothlórien than she didn't remember Legolas' declaration. Or her own.

"You will remember in time," Aragorn said forcing his tone to be light.

Lana shook her head in denial. "I don't understand… Why don't I remember?"

"Do not worry yourself, Lana. It will all return."

She grimaced and she reached up with her good hand to touch the bandage on her head. Her skull must feel tender, particularly at the back, Aragorn knew. It was a blessing that she had a thick head for while the bone had been fractured, it had not split open.

"None of this feels right," she murmured staring up at the ceiling. "I _know_ there are pieces missing." She shifted her gaze and stared almost desperately at Legolas.

His heart cracked with love for her and for her pain. He lifted her bandaged right hand to his lips and lightly kissed the wrapped fingers. He missed the flash of unease that raced across her eyes. Her gaze then shifted to the _invictus_ tattoo that peaked out from under the bandage. Emotions but not memories surfaced causing her further confusion.

"Legolas…" she murmured.

"Aye," the elf said emotionally.

"I…" looked at him brokenly then tears filled her eyes.

Legolas inhaled sharply. He didn't know what to do! But he needed to _do_ _something_. He looked desperately at Aragorn. The Ranger's head was bowed.

"Do not fret," a familiar voice said, and everyone turned to see Gandalf had returned. "You will remember, and I will help you."

Lana gave him a hopeful look but then frowned. The pain in her head was worsening.

"I'm not…" She didn't finish for the flash of excruciating agony that ripped behind her eyes. The back of her head throbbed with each of her heartbeats. She thought she might be sick.

Legolas shook with dismay. Gently he stroked her head trying to soothe her as much as himself. "Be at peace, Cairnmel; Gandalf will help you." He whispered.

Her eyes opened at that, and she stared at Legolas intently._ Cairnmel? Why was that so familiar?_

She stared intensely at the elf. Images and feelings were all kicked up like sand at the beach in her mind. She _knew_ she should be more nervous around Legolas. After all they were barely just friends. Yet something in her heart baulked at that. It scoffed at her as if to say, _There is plenty more here than 'just friends.'_

However whenever she tried to snatch a floating thought her head pounded with a fierce punishing agony.

The man named Gandalf asked the other two to leave. There was a gleam in his eye that made her suddenly nervous. She didn't want to be alone with this strange old man who she didn't recognize at all. Yet as with Aragorn and Legolas, she felt she _knew_ him.

She looked to Legolas, and his jaw trembled slightly. But he merely nodded encouragingly at her, holding her gaze. She thought she heard words in her head then…

_Come back to me, my love…I am here waiting for you…_

Her brows drew together, perplexed, but then he was gone. Shifting her gaze to the old man she felt as if she was staring into the depths of time.

"Now then," he began. "Let's begin."

o0o

Gimli watched Legolas as he paced in the gardens. The elf was rigid as the bowstring on his great Lórien weapon. The grief pouring out of him was overwhelming but at least the lass was awake. The fact that she had lost a great portion of her memory though…no wonder the lad was frantic.

That this mirrored the night after the battle at Helm's Deep was not lost on him—_or anyone!_ Those that had been present then would be daft to not see the similarities. The differences though were what made this time around bittersweet. Lana lived and would continue to live. There was no doubt there. _But_… Gimli exhaled.

Gandalf had been with her for hours now. And in all that time no word was sent on his progress with Lana's memory.

Legolas had refused to speak, so Gimli had gone to Aragorn for answers. The wizard might be able to draw the hidden memories from the recesses of Lana's mind. But there was no guarantee. Gimli had wished to see the lass himself, but knew that he would not be welcomed as of yet.

It grieved his soul to hear of Lana's state. But the fact that she had disobeyed again, well…he glanced at Legolas sensing many things radiating off of the prince. Hurt, anxiety, anger…and most of all…fear. The dwarf felt half inclined to knock Lana on the head again for her foolish deeds. It was setting them all on edge—and he did not know how much more Legolas could take. He didn't know how much more _he_ could take!

When Gandalf appeared at last, Legolas went to him immediately.

"How is she?" He inquired urgently.

The old wizard looked at the elf with weary compassion, but when he did not speak right away, Gimli's heart dropped.

"She is resting now." The wizard answered after he seated himself on a marble bench. "And I too am in need of rest."

"But _how_ is she?" Legolas demanded again.

Gandalf lifted a brow. The prince hardly acknowledged the wizard's fatigue.

"And how do you expect after eight hours work?" He retorted grumpily, but he relented. "Most of her memory has returned."

Legolas' shoulders sagged in relief, and Gimli sighed deeply as well.

"It cost her much however. She is now resting—do not disturb her! I put her into a deep sleep that should continue to mend her broken mind. It was not easy, but you can count your lucky stars that her bond to you is so strong." He looked at Legolas meaningfully.

Gimli listened to this with interest.

"Leave her to her respite," Gandalf commanded again. "I suggest that you both take some rest yourselves. She will not be waking until the dawn."

Legolas was half tempted to hug the life out of the wizard but he restrained himself._ She is healed!_ Or mostly, at least. This swinging of his ragged emotions was more tiring than the battle he had fought. He wanted to run to her side straightaway but Gandalf forbade him.

"Take some time for yourself, _Ernil_, she will not notice your absence." _Prince_.

Legolas nodded at last, and after probing the wizard for more information he discovered that Lana had been moved into the citadel guest wing. Now that she was out of danger there was no need for her to take up space in the healing hall.

Suddenly feeling exhausted, Legolas followed Gimli to the chambers prepared for each of them.

o0o

Lana twitched. Disconnected images flashed across the screen of her mind. She was asleep but her brain was still working. The wizard's magic was still sizzling through her synapses. Much of the swelling inside her skull had gone down thanks to Gandalf's healing touch; and that relieved a tremendous amount of the pain caused by her swollen brain.

Once that happened a floodgate of memories came pouring forth. But everything was out of order. It had taken hours to reconstruct her mind. Even now in her unconsciousness the neural networks were extending to reconnect the familiar pathways.

Like a child, her brain played with her memories, splicing together people and images that in reality could never be. Yet it all made sense to her synapses as they sifted through the layers of remembrances and put them in the proper order.

Behind it all, there were words. Like background music in a café, they whispered to her mind. Her brain didn't notice but continued to toy with the memories, intent on reconstructing itself.

And she slept unaware of anything.

o0o

Once bathed and in fresh clothes, Legolas decided—against the better wisdom of Gandalf—to visit Lana's chambers. The hallway was empty when he opened his door. No one marked his entrance to the lady's room.

His mind and heart were in a jumble. The ups and downs of these last hours, rather these last days, had frayed whatever elven calm he had left. What remained was a being in desperate need of respite, and he instinctively sought out the one who made his heart sing as much as it made it weep.

Was this what it meant to be in love? He didn't know.

Silently entering her room he inhaled, holding a breath in anticipation. It appeared that she had bathed as well and was resting just as Gandalf had said.

Wordlessly Legolas approached the bed, admiring the way the moonlight touched her face. All distress was gone and now there was peace on her face. Except for the telltale bandage around her head, she looked almost uninjured.

Unable to help himself he touched her hair smoothing the slightly damp tresses. How close he had come to losing her—again! He choked slightly at the thought. _Lana_. So infinitely precious—so infinitely dear—so loved! _How can I protect you if you keep doing this, my love?_ Despite it all a corner of his lips quirked upwards. _My fiery little lioness._

Still, when the chance presented itself, he would be having a firm discussion with her. These actions of hers could not continue. He would lock her in this room if he had to! Then he wouldn't have worry about her doing something foolish.

At least he didn't have to pine for her. She was here with him, and all would be well. Gandalf had said her memories had mostly returned. A greater blessing he couldn't imagine right then. His heart had been singing the praises of all the Valar and Eru Ilúvatar. But he also prayed for the strength to endure this woman's madness.

He knelt down by her bedside and sighed. He took comfort in the fact that she was breathing. For a long time, he did nothing but think and watch. Blatantly he ignored the brewing storm in the east. Mordor was black with anger. The elf could feel Sauron's fierce rage even here.

Turning his back to the Shadow he stroked Lana's cheek lightly. Then ever so cautiously he stretched himself out next to her on the bed. He was exceptionally vigilant; aware of the deep healing sleep Gandalf had put her in. She needed the rest, and he would guard it. For the second time he kept watch over her sleep once more.

* * *

_I have agonised over this chapter. I must have rewritten it from scratch at least six times. I tend to not like amnesia tropes as I feel they are overused and not well written. But with the type of swelling in Lana's brain it was only natural that she should have some memory problems. She has Traumatic Brain Injury in case you want the clinical definition. _

_But I didn't want the story to get bogged down here, hence Gandalf's "supernatural" healing. I'm still not completely satisfied with this chapter. And I may come back and rewrite it again. But I have more chapters with some juicy character development (and some upcoming fluff!) that I want to get out to you guys._

_We're nearing the end! But not to worry. I have a bit more up my sleeves!_

_Thank you all for your reviews and for catching my typos. Your kind words and encouragement mean a lot!_

_As always thanks for reading!_


	50. Why We Do What We Do

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.**

I don't own anything of Tolkien's Middle Earth. I just play there.

* * *

**Chapter 49: Why We Do What We Do**

It was warm. Like being bathed in a hot summer sun beneath a shady tree. A cool wind licked the skin of her face. There was a whiff of salty tang that teased just beyond her senses. But that's all it took to evoke an image of rolling surf and happier days. For a moment Lana thought she was at her brother's home in California. The sound of surf echoed in her ears and she half expected to smell coffee brewing.

Slowly she opened her eyes to see cool marble walls and an arching doorway that led to a balcony. One of the double doors was open. A soft breeze shifted the long curtains that hung from the ceiling and they billowed in lazy waves. She watched their motion, mesmerized by the soft undulations. Still deep in her still subconscious mind she heard the sea and waves rolling in the deep.

The curtains were white but if she squinted just a little she could make them appear blue. Blue ripples. Blue ocean. She missed the sea. Warm summer days spent in blissful abandonment. No cares or responsibilities. Just endless blue sky and bottomless blue sea. She blinked.

Awareness came in gradual phases that her mind slowly pieced together into an understanding of where she was. _Gondor_. Those memories of brighter days blew away with the wind, and the curtains became white and colorless again.

She was on a bed. A sheet and blanket covered her. There was also a growing pain in her…well, _everywhere_. She grimaced slightly. Ignoring her body's aches, she extended her senses further. She felt how the bed she laid on dipped on her right, and how despite being in the shade she felt warmer there than she did on the left.

Slowly turning her head her eyes met with hot summer blue. She blinked now caught by the color. Her throat suddenly felt thick and there was a stinging behind her eyes.

"Legolas…" she breathed.

The summer blue of his eyes sizzled and in a single motion his lips covered hers. With celerity she responded, her hands seeking his face. She spoke only with her body, letting him know that under no uncertain terms she remembered him now. And that she _needed_ him._ Oh God, I need him!_

Legolas slowly broke the kiss only to trail his lips along her face, kissing every feature, even the bandage wrapped around her head. Propped up on his elbow he used his free hand to alternately smooth and grip her hair.

When at last he stilled, his lips were moist as were his eyes. He brushed back her hair yet again staring deeply into her dark blue gaze.

"Legolas…" she breathed thickly. "I…"

A sob caught in her throat and her face broke as the dam of her emotions was released. She hardly knew what she was trying to say. She just felt so such that words simply failed her.

Legolas took each salty tear in his lips. He murmured soothingly in his native tongue.

_"Meleth nín…Ú-istad thos peniad vi gûr nín. Anat eglerio Eru! Nad sí, varna renc nín. Ú-innan leithian le…ú-darin milui le."_

_My love…You know not the fear you put into my heart. But Eru be praised! You are here, safe in my arms. I will never let go of you…never stop loving you._

His free arm encircled her, holding her close but with a consciousness to her injuries. He spoke too fast for her to keep up. It didn't help that her head still ached violently. And her tears weren't helping matters. The bandage around her head reminded her of what had passed.

The day of the battle and the frantic ride to the field were still fuzzy in her brain. Bits and pieces bubbled up like fragments of a sunken ship now and then. She snatched them quickly like a drowning sailor trying to rebuild his craft at sea.

But she was so relieved she remembered all her time with Legolas. That at least had come back. _Thank God!_

"I thought I would never see you again!" She whispered hoarsely. "I thought I was going to die alone on that field!"

_"Shh_…Think no more of it. You are safe."

Legolas helped her sit up, propping her with extra pillows. She couldn't believe how weak she felt. It was an effort just to hold her head up. She could if she had to, but it was a relief that there was no need. Legolas brought a wet cloth to soothe her puffy face. She turned her cheek into his hand as he gently wiped away the remaining tears. It felt good and she closed her eyes.

A knock sounded on the door. Lana's eyes snapped open. Before Legolas could answer it, an orderly opened it. The young woman halted abruptly seeing Legolas sitting on the side of Lana's bed.

"Oh! Pardon me!" She squeaked, cheeks reddening. "I dinna know someone was with the lady." Recovering she adjusted the tray in her hands. "I'm Idith," she said, clearly falling back on well-trained manners. "How are ye feelin' then, milady?" She asked Lana solicitously.

Idith made a point to _not_ look at Legolas directly. Her cheeks were still rosy with embarrassment and, apparently, she didn't know where to look. Clearly she was taken with Legolas—and who wouldn't be? But it was also quite evident that he was _alone_ in a lady's bedchamber.

She had seen him briefly the day before and Idith noted how he hovered over this woman. She had sighed thinking this lady to be very lucky to have his attentions.

"Better," Lana rasped in answer to her question. "My head hurts though."

Idith carefully sent the tray over Lana's lap once the elf moved aside. "That's to be expected. Ye took a right nasty blow at the back of yer head. Breakfast should help though. There's peppermint in yer tea. That should ease the headache."

The nurse perfunctorily checked the bandages on Lana's head and hand before flitting back towards the door.

"I'll be back in a wee bit, but if there's need send for me in the Houses of Healing." She curtsied briskly and left just as quickly.

Lana exhaled in dry amusement, but even that small action made her head swim with migraine effects. She squeezed her eyes shut trying to breath through the shooting pain. It felt like her skull was in a vice and being slowly compressed. Light sometimes flashed behind her eyes. The agony in her head caused her neck and shoulders to tense up to the point where moving became utterly unthinkable. Vaguely she felt the bed dip again as Legolas sat beside her once more.

"You are in pain," he breathed. Lifting the tea to her he ordered, "Drink."

He held the cup to her even though she was quite able to hold it herself. That much she _could_ do, but she didn't complain. The warm liquid and its smell did ease her somewhat. The oatmeal in her bowl looked unappetizing but the scent of melted butter tickled her nose and her stomach gasped at the prospect of food. Despite its blandness the oatmeal disappeared in a flash. Lana's innards approved of the dull meal.

Legolas was mostly silent throughout her breakfast. He noted that speaking seemed to strain her. Lana hardly acknowledged his worry. She knew it was there, but she felt so weak and just tired. She doubted she could get out of the bed.

For once her brain wasn't racing from thought to thought. If she did try to ponder anything at all she was rewarded with a sharp stab that started behind her eyes and extended backwards towards her cerebral cortex. All she wanted to do was go back to sleep.

So this time she did not ask Legolas about the battle. She didn't want to know. He had questions; she knew this without even looking at him, but she also sensed he was hesitant to voice them. And she did not encourage him.

_Not yet._

Much to her surprise and pleasure, Legolas reclined next to her and soothed her pain away. His fingers rubbed her temples and he stroked her hair, which caused delightful tingles to dance on her scalp. Slowly she relaxed, drifting on his soft voice that hummed in sweet undertone.

His song was beautiful. Like all elves he possessed a heavenly singing voice, but it was all the sweeter because it was he who sang just for her. The melody was soft and ethereal and she lost herself in the Sindarin lyrics. Her brain didn't even bother to try and translate the words.

She felt like she was floating above herself. And somehow she saw herself and Legolas. Peering down she could see how pale and battered she looked. Bruises covered her visible skin and her hair was a frightful mess. _Is that really what I look like?_

Next to Legolas she looked like a beaten dog. Internally she grimaced but the scene was so poignant that it moved her deeply. Yet she felt the desire to ascend higher into the ether she found herself in. There was no pain in that place. There wasn't anything at all.

She only returned when the sound of voices brought her back to herself. Forcing her eyes to open she saw Aragorn speaking with Legolas in hushed tones. They were trying to be quiet but the man spoke with forceful gestures. Their words spoken in Sindarin were terse. Both were turned slightly away from her.

She must have made some noise because they each turned to her right then. When she tried to speak no sound issued forth. Her throat was parched. Legolas was already fixing her a drink. It wasn't water, but something slightly sweet and tea-like.

Aragorn approached her and laid a gentle hand on her bandaged head. "How do you feel?"

"Like shit," she croaked.

He nodded, but did not smile at her quip. Instead he looked pensively at her. Legolas was on the verge of glaring daggers at the man and she wondered why as she sipped at the cup he held. But she didn't have to wonder for long.

"What were you doing in the battle, Lana?"

His tone reminded her of a parent scolding a child. Half of her cringed and the other half felt defiant, but all she could muster was an exhausted exhalation. Her eyes slowly closed.

"You defied instruction yet again, and this time the consequences were even greater."

Opening her eyes she stared blandly at the Ranger. She said nothing.

_"Nadeid gern, Aragorn. Ú-carad dín." She is worn, Aragorn. Do not press her._

Aragorn's lips thinned. But he relented only because the pathetic sight of her tore his heart. Legolas had nearly tried to force him from the room earlier when he learned that Aragorn intended to question her. Speaking drained her, Legolas had told him. So neither of them expected Lana to answer.

"I came to bear witness." She said in a hoarse voice, her gaze distant. "Middle Earth is my home now, and I am a journalist. I came to see so I could report on what I have seen…so it is recorded properly. To record real life stories so they might not be forgotten."

Her eyes closed slowly before she shifted her gaze to the two men who listened raptly. "It was never my intention to join the battle. I stayed well back, but I was spotted." She frowned trying to remember. The jumbled pieces of her memory settled into place, but it cost her. She grimaced as her head throbbed and she pressed her good hand to her brow.

"I was thrown…Hasufel threw me…that's all I remember."

Legolas was unable to keep silent now that hers was broken. "You risked your life to _bear witness?_ There are hundreds—_thousands_—who witnessed the battle! You were not needed to bear witness!" His voice was sharp with the anger he had banked. But now that it was loose he couldn't stop himself. "Who let you ride with the army? Théoden? Or did you slip in disguise with Éowyn and Merry?"

Lana blinked at the tirade. Her eyes fell. With her good hand, she picked at the bandage on her right. Aragorn was surprised as well.

"I didn't know Éowyn and Merry were in the battle. I looked for them as the riders prepared to leave, but I never found them." She looked up through her lashes. "Are they ok?"

"They each suffered grievous wounds but are mending now," Aragorn interjected. His anger evaporated while Legolas' only seemed to grow.

"So you made this decision to risk your life once more on your own? And for what purpose?_ Reporting?_ Does your life mean so little to you?"

Aragorn made to put a quelling hand on the elf's arm but Lana abruptly burst out.

"It means _everything!_ Do you forget what I was, Legolas?" She heaved a breath, leveraging herself into an upright position. Ignoring the pinpoints of light that flashed in her peripheral she glared at the elf. "I was a fucking _war_ correspondent! I have seen more death, more casualties than most soldiers do in their _entire lives!_ Do you even know how many battles I've seen? Dozens! Afghanistan wasn't my only war."

She gritted her teeth as her body protested the outburst. An explosion of pain nearly knocked her back. It felt like someone hit her head with a sledgehammer. All the relaxation Legolas had given her earlier was gone. In its place was the need for him to understand her. This was who she was and would always be. _He must understand this!_

"I cannot change who I am." She looked at both the man and the elf. Tears stung her eyes caused by both her emotions and her physical pain. "Yes the battles will be remembered, and the glorious heroes will be sung—but what of the common soldiers? What about their families? _Their_ legacy? What about those whose voices are never heard because they are simply deemed not worthy of remembrance in the eyes of your historians? They become faceless casualties; just numbers is a brutal war.

"My memory may be clouded but I _do_ remember speaking with many soldiers on the way to the this city. I was privileged to learn who they are; their families; their friends; their fields and homes. I learned of their hopes and aspirations.

"Legolas, I saw their camaraderie, and how when life couldn't be any worse, they still laughed! Can you image that? They were called to fight—to give _their_ lives for a country not their own, for a people not their own…And do you know what they told me? They told me that it is better to live a short life protecting the good and the innocent and the beautiful of _this world_, instead of waiting for the darkness to consume it."

She held their gazes powerfully as her words sank in.

"They said that even though the odds are against them they were _honored_ to fight for Minas Tirith—despite the fact that this city failed to come to _their_ aid. Can you image the generosity of heart that takes?"

Her eyes shifted to the Ranger. "Aragorn, you were about ready to wring Théoden's neck as he wavered on whether or not to come here. Do you remember? But his men were more than ready to defend this city—_your_ city!

"I rode with these men—these so-called 'simple' soldiers. I rode with _them!_ Not the king, not his generals, but his most common followers. And by God the courage of common soldiers! There is nothing like it! I wrote it all down. And one day I will put their stories together and publish it. Their stories their voices will be heard. And _remembered_._"_

She shook with her passion. "And so, Legolas, you ask me why I came? Why I risked all? It is to hear stories like Rolf's and Eomund's. To hear Wulfine's fears—and to see what _true_ courage is as he and others like him fight those fears! My life's work is to share _other's_ stories with the world. So one day, when this is all over, a great-great grandchild can read that it was _his_ grandfather who was the hero. Not just some a king who ultimately means nothing to them."

Her chest rose and fell rapidly and finally she eased back on her pillows, unable to stay upright any longer.

"They will know the cost and _why_ it was paid. It is these stories that endure; that show the true meaning of it is to be _human."_

Lana fell silent. Her eyes glistened with pain that stretched further back than yesterday; further than Helm's Deep, or even Moria. It stretched beyond Afghanistan to the Central Africa, and even to Sri Lanka; to lands that neither Legolas nor Aragorn would ever know or see.

Legolas stood stock still as a torrent of feelings assailed him—both hers and his. But his face showed nothing. Aragorn was staring as well. She had left them speechless.

It hurt that Legolas seemed to not understand. He stared at her emotionlessly, and it felt almost as if he had withdrawn from her. Lana suddenly felt very alone, much like she had when first arriving in Middle Earth. She yearned for the mask to crack, for him to accept her words…to accept _her_. He had said he loved her, yet now she wondered how strong that love was.

She would not apologize. She couldn't be sorry for who she was. And she did not regret her actions, though they led to undesirable consequences. Her words were true—she did not come here to fight. She needed him to know this. In her heart she needed him to understand this part of her.

He said nothing. And after a long moment of silence he turned and left the room. Lana blinked, the tears in her eyes overflowing. She felt an invisible knife stab her heart. _Legolas…_

Shifting her gaze she looked to Aragorn. "Are you going to leave me too?"

* * *

_Thank you for your reviews._

_And thank you as always for reading._


	51. An Impasse

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.**

I don't own anything of Tolkien's Middle Earth. I just play there.

**Author's Note:** Thanks so much to each of you who read this story. And a particularly warm thank you (with elf hugs!) to those of you who encourage me. I get a lot of pleasure out of writing this story, and I am so delighted that you all are enjoying it too. I'm so lucky! I have the best readers ever! One negative-nancy isn't going to stop me. I am always open to constructive criticism, but not to judgemental snippy comments.

But thank you to those of you who have sent me warm wishes recently. Criticism can be hard to take, even if it is just one voice. But you all remind me that this story is loved. So thank you!

And now... back to our regularly scheduled chapter! ;)

* * *

**Chapter 50: An Impasse**

The Ranger sighed and rubbed a hand over his tired features. His hair danced as he shook his head.

"Nay. I will not." Moving he sat on the bed facing her.

He studied the woman who once more surprised and overwhelmed him. The more time he spent in her company the more of her complexities showed. Her words had struck a cord in him. He understood. Partly.

He had spoken with many people throughout his life: those common folk who lived their lives unburdened by responsibilities of leadership or state. They were _good_ people. And Lana was not wrong in saying that they each had their own unique stories.

How many men had fought with over these years? How many seemingly insignificant lives had he guarded? Innumerable months he had spent hunting the foulness that crept from the dark places of the world. Then there were the years he had spent guarding the Shire—happy years. Such would have seemed a waste to an outsider.

Lana was right. Not many people took the time to acknowledge the humble kitchen maid, or the lowly soldier, or even the simple hobbit. Those deemed trivial were quickly dismissed and swiftly forgotten. Their stories weren't told. And fewer still even knew that Halflings existed at all. Yet now the fate of the entire world rested in the hands of one.

Lana sniffed drawing his focus back to her. Her face was crumpled as tears streamed down her cheeks. Her heart was breaking before his eyes.

"I blew it Aragorn," she moaned. "He hates me now."

He shook his head. With his thumb, he wiped away the streaming tears. "Nay, Lana. Did I not tell you? An elf's heart is not given so lightly, nor is their love so easily lost." He gave her an encouraging smile.

"But he said nothing!" She hiccupped. "He just stared at me like I was some alien thing. He doesn't understand."

It was true. She had stunned them both with her raw diatribe. The fact that Legolas had left the room without a word spoke volumes of the elf's excoriated emotional state.

"He needs time to consider your words." The Ranger said soothingly as he could. "Remember, he has never been in love before, and you have managed to both endear yourself to his heart while endangering your life twice over in little less than a month."

Lana looked down. "I know." She replied in a small voice. "I just _need_ him to know—to _understand_ why I did what I did. I wasn't trying to hurt him, or you, or anyone. I was trying to do my job."

Aragorn exhaled and looked down. While he felt some kinship with this woman he still struggled to comprehend this strange fire that burned within her. Part of him could appreciate her words and her verve, but he found it difficult to just dismiss that she had defied orders twice. Choosing his words carefully he spoke.

"Lana, do know why Legolas is angry with you? Why I am frustrated with you?"

She didn't meet his gaze. "I suspect it has something to do with 'not following orders.'" Her tone was tinged with morose defiance.

He touched her arm forcing her to look at him. "Indeed. I know that your customs are far different from any of ours here. Truly, you remind us of this consistently! But you seem to forget that this is a war we are in; and while you say you have been in battles before I believe I can say they were unlike those you have witnessed here."

She nodded, although the stubborn line in her lips remained.

"Can you then understand why we fear for you? How can we trust you if you keep breaking our simple requests?"

"But I don't want to be useless! I'm sick of it," she said, her frustration rising. She pounded the bed with her good hand.

The Ranger sighed. "You sound not unlike Éowyn—do not give me that look; you know that you both are alike in many ways."

"She wants to have glory and renown. I don't." Lana said petulantly.

"You both want to change this world for the better." He corrected. "And while each of you has accomplished great things in your own way, you both were greatly harmed."

Lana pursed her lips. "Éowyn is ok though, right? You said she is healed."

"Healing," he rectified. "But she will not be seeing battle any further. Nor will you."

"What happened to her?"

Aragorn recounted the story as he knew it. Lana paled. Éowyn, Shield Maiden of her people, had destroyed a great evil. And lived. That should be renown enough, Lana thought. Yet to hear of how ill she had become caused Lana to worry greatly for the other woman.

"She was very brave but foolish. Yet we all owe her a debt. Sauron will be crippled without his chief captain."

Lana nodded. "She accomplished what she set out to do."

Yet she felt strangely dissatisfied with her own work. She had barely managed to survive the battle, let alone report it. She wondered what happened to her iPhone. All her things seemed to be missing. And what happened to Hasufel?

She was afraid to ask after the stallion. Instead, she focused on the anger that rose up thick in her throat. She looked away, the muscles in her jaw standing out as she grit her teeth.

"Lana look at me," Aragorn demanded. After a moment, she met his direct gaze. "This is a command: You are not to leave this citadel. I want your word on this."

"Does it matter? The battle was won, right?" She threw back sullenly.

"Aye, the battle, but not the war. I fear dire action must be taken."

Lana felt a worrisome shift in the air. "What do you mean?"

Aragorn pinched the bridge of his nose. "It means that you will not be leaving this citadel. I may not yet be king here, but I can still ensure that you do not leave. Though I rather have your promise."

Lana stared hard at him, the fire in her eyes was formidable but finally, she nodded.

"Fine. I swear I will not leave this citadel." She intoned with some theatrics. Then she sighed. "I doubt I could do much of anything anyway." She sank deliberately down into the bed, looking for all the world dejected and depressed.

Aragorn brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers. "Gandalf was right about you," he murmured. She glanced up at him questioningly. "You have proven your great worth before the end."

o0o

The fields of Pelennor were destroyed. Mordor's war machines and the armies of Gondor and its allies had scarred the once verdant plains. Those who survived the battle still combed the fields, collecting the dead and searching with flagging hope for any remaining survivors. The death toll was catastrophic. There was little hope that the White City could withstand another assault. But for the moment at least, everyone could breathe.

Far above, sitting on the sixth wall of the city sat Mirkwood's prince. An overhanging tree that dangled its branches over the ledge hid him from sight. His keen eyes saw far too much even from this distance. His heart grieved for the loss of life. But it could have been worse.

_Far worse._

His mind rerouted back to Lana's tirade. Even now he felt the sway of her words. Bandaged, bloodied and bruised she had looked more powerful than he had ever seen her. Her stunning display had floored him, but not in a way he liked. By the Valar, she confounded him!

Even now he still couldn't reconcile her actions and words. As moving as her impassioned speech had been it made little sense to the prince. Elves by nature were not so obsessed with chronicling; at least not since the Eldar Days. The insatiable need to report on every little thing seemed of very little use. Did the lowliest soldier's thoughts on life really matter in the great scheme of things? Certainly not when it put his love's life in danger!

He saw her aspiration to bear witness as some sort of mad death wish. Who would willing _want_ to observe war? It was one thing he had failed to ask her about before. Yet she had answered the unthought-of question without any provocation. And her answer did little to convince him of the necessity of her being here at all.

Perhaps it had something to do with being mortal. They all had, at times, some wild streak that enabled them to do the most amazing things. That was one thing he respected about them. In fact, Aragorn's quest to summon the dead could be deemed as madness too. But unlike Lana, Legolas had full confidence in Aragorn's strengths and abilities as a warrior.

Lana was not a warrior by any stretch of the word. And she _knew_ it! But she still came anyway. Yes. It was truly madness.

Legolas for all his many years had never _willingly_ sought out battle. He only pursued it to protect what was dear to him and to follow the command of his king. What did he care about the wars of other people? The Easterlings, the tribes of Umbar, even the disputes between Gondor and the Shadow were of little concern until he joined the Fellowship.

That thought suddenly left a bitter taste in his mouth. Had he truly been so callous?

Self-recrimination spread like an infection through his mind. Yet, he _had_ changed. He _did_ care. Mirkwood was a part of Middle Earth and he was honored to fight for the freedom and justice its peoples deserved. People like Lana's simple soldiers. He would willingly lay down his life for the quest and to protect those nearest to him—to protect _her_.

Yet Lana seemed to think it her responsibility to chase after horse farmers! How could she not see the folly in that? She claimed that he did not understand her—but it was she who didn't understand _him!_

His jaw cracked as he ground his teeth.

Did she realize what she did to him? How she ripped his heart from his chest only to leave it bleeding in the dust of her lunacy?

Legolas leaned back against the tree and groaned. His thoughts were going in circles. His heart ached as he felt pulled in conflicting directions. Before he met Lana he had never experienced such wrenching desire to protect someone that he also wished to shake sense into. She clearly didn't understand _her_ place here. Part of him yearned to show her that she didn't need to endanger herself to be useful. Yet, recalling her words, he knew that she would only fling his concern back in his face.

What had he gotten himself into? Just who was Lana? He thought he knew, but now…

"I love her still," he groaned and put his head in his hands.

Damn it all he did! His heart was lost to her. It was partly that fire she possessed which had attracted him. He had seen it first in Lothlórien as she battled to come to terms with her life in Middle Earth. Back then she had been defiant despite her fears. She had eventually pushed herself to reach out to him even though she had been petrified.

He recalled that night when she had formally reintroduced herself. It seemed so long ago now. Yet when he closed his eyes he saw the soft silvery light of Lórien surrounding them. The glow of the lamp had illuminated her eyes and he had marveled at them, unknowingly at the time. She had chosen to let her barriers down.

_"My name's Lana Rey."_

He tightened his grip on the branch beneath his hand. More memories of her fiery courage raced through his mind, each building on the last until he arrived at the moment when she stared at him with those blazing blue eyes.

She hadn't apologized for what she said. She firmly believed in her convictions. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the branch further. Staring blindly towards the shadow hovering over the east, he knew that something must be done with her. His anger was not yet spent.

But what, exactly, was he to do with her?

o0o

Aragorn was surprised to see Legolas. He had not expected him to join them that day but he was pleased nonetheless. He waited under the arched portico until the elf caught up with him. Eyeing the direction he came from, Aragorn knew that he had been in the gardens outside the Houses of Healing. It was one of the few green spaces in the city.

Thranduil's son was quiet. His eyes revealed nothing of the inner turmoil the Ranger was certain he was feeling. They shared a look, but no words were exchanged. Legolas merely fell in step with him as they walked toward the throne room of Gondor. While others could rest, they could not. Now was the time for strategy.

Still, Aragorn was concerned for his friend. _"Ci maer?" Are you well?_

Legolas did not show any indication that he heard the question. But after a moment he replied tersely. _"Ú-aníron pedo." I do not wish to speak._

Aragorn gave a short nod of acknowledgment. It was clear Legolas had yet to sort through his feelings. Love was not easy, but Aragorn had little experience with the situation Legolas now found himself in. At least Arwen didn't disobey orders—nor did she charge off without thought to consequence. And she was trained in weaponry. She could defend herself if needed.

He wished he could offer some insight to the elf, but he had nothing. Yet this much was still clear to the Ranger: Legolas loved Lana. He could see it lurking behind the elf's stony eyes. There was no changing that.

Setting aside rebellious women and angry elves, Aragorn pushed open the doors that led to the throne room. A strange feeling ran down his spine as he saw the white throne of the king atop its pedestal. He was so very close—close to the end, whatever that maybe. Yet he chose to believe hope was not lost.

As he moved to stand in front of the throne he felt the enormity of his heritage. It was no simple thing to be a king. This much he knew. He could only hope that he would be as great as the kings of old.

He just had to finish this war first. _And survive._

He waited with Legolas for Gandalf, Gimli, and Éomer to arrive. The elf remained silent, arms crossed over his chest, eyes downcast. The Ranger's shoulders sagged a little as he exhaled.

They had a moment. The calm before the rest of the storm broke. Now was the time to plan their next move.

o0o

When the orderly Idith had come back to check on Lana there was no elven prince to overwhelm her this time. Lana greeted the other woman listlessly. She felt drained, alone, and very much rejected. But her nursemaid seemed oblivious to her breaking heart and chattered on about nothing like an imbecile. Lana glared. She wanted the noisome nurse to go and leave her to her wallowing.

As it was, Idith stuck around a bit longer this time. Either she was making up for disappearing so quick in the morning, or she was avoiding further work from the Houses of Healing. Her dark brown hair was tucked under a colorless headscarf. But wisps of brown curls had escaped the kerchief, and she kept brushing these behind her ears.

This time she had brought a mug of warm broth that tasted like watered down chicken stock. There were small lumps that looked suspiciously like tofu, but were clearly something else. _Potatoes?_

Idith was going on about something to do with the handsome knights she had tended. Lana wasn't really paying attention. Her male problems far outweighed Idith's at the moment. Thankfully it didn't seem necessary for Lana to say anything in reply so she didn't.

As she sipped at the subfusc broth her mind kept replaying the earlier scene from that morning. She remembered how her heart pounded frantically as Legolas' face went from furious to alarmingly blank. Legolas didn't hide his emotions from her. Not anymore. So she could only assume that he had decided she was no longer worth the trouble.

She didn't know if she could believe Aragorn's words about elven love. In all her experience, love was finite. It could fade as quickly as it could flame. Her heart was desperately trying to put itself back together while stoutly refusing her logical mind. If it had its way, her heart would rule over her mind, but Lana was far too pragmatic for that.

For so long she had kept her inner self guarded. And now look! She had let her guard down.

_Don't give up!_ She abruptly set the mug down. Idith was still talking about knights. Frowning she listened again. _Fight Lana! Fight for him!_

She blinked. The words came from deep within her. Confused by this shook her head.

"Are you alright then, milady?"

Lana nodded. Idith moved over to check her bandages again, muttering under her breath._ Do not be so stubborn! And quit being selfish!_ Lana jerked slightly.

"Apologies, milady," Idith said automatically assuming it was her probing fingers that caused her jump.

Lana closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Yes, she did hurt. Everywhere. But a growing desperation settled in her soul. She had to leave this room but she doubted her loquacious nursemaid would allow her.

Suddenly an idea crossed her mind. "Idith,"

"Aye, milady?"

"Do you know where Éowyn is? I would like to see her."

Idith adjusted the breakfast tray in her hands before answering. "The Lady Éowyn is in the Houses. But I do not think it would be wise for you to leave your bed, milady. And I know not if the lady can receive visitors. She was grievously injured, you know."

Lana debated what to do. Despite her aching body she felt confined. This room reeked of her despair and she wanted out. Her legs weren't damaged so she didn't have to _stay_ in bed.

"Well, I don't think a small walk would hurt me." She reasoned. "If Éowyn can't see me then perhaps I could sit in the gardens or something. I would like some fresh air."

Idith grimaced at her words.

"What? What is it?"

"The air is none too fresh these days, milady. What with all the dead out beyond the wall, poor souls."

Lana's face mirrored the woman's. She knew the scent of death well enough. It was a putrid stench and one whiff could upset her fragile equilibrium. Lana hesitated again. Then deciding that Idith was only trying to put her off, she kicked back the blankets and shifted her feet to the floor.

"Milady! I don't think—"

"You're not going to stop me, Idith. So don't bother trying." Lana groused irritably. "My legs aren't broken so I can bloody well walk."

Seeing that there was little she could do to prevent Lana from getting up, Idith sighed and instead fetched her some slippers and a warm cloak from the wardrobe across the room. Lana hardly noticed as she tested her weight. She felt wobbly but stable enough. Standing slowly she groaned, feeling very much older than she actually was.

Her arrow wound throbbed in tandem with her head, and for a moment she saw stars. Willing them away she inhaled as deeply as she could. Between Helm's Deep and Pelennor Fields she had lost a lot of blood, and her body was starved for oxygen. She was also frequently cold—another side effect of blood loss. Despite it all, she was determined to move around, even if she only made it to the hallway.

Idith draped a thick garment over Lana and then set some gray slippers by her feet. Touching the fabric, Lana admired the rich velvet robe as it settled heavily over her shoulders. It was black with silver filigree threads. Black ermine fur-lined the edges. It was warm and its weight was comforting. She felt like a Russian fairytale princess robed in such finery.

"Whose is this?" She wondered aloud.

"Begging your pardon, milady, but I don't know. Belonged to some noblewoman I suspect."

Lana suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. While Idith was a chatterbox she seemed to have a cynical temper. She was acerbic when the conversation strayed from what she wished to speak about. Although she acted the part of the caring nursemaid, it was plain to see she resented her job. Or at the very least, resented caring for Lana.

Lana narrowed her eyes. Idith's bedside manner lacked on all accounts it seemed. Sarcasm was not on the menu today, and Lana had little patience for prissy nurses. Still she bit back the tart words that bubbled on her tongue.

Despite her exasperation, Idith didn't leave Lana in the dust but adjusted her brisk gait to match Lana's slower tread. Following the orderly down the corridors back to the healing ward, Lana took the opportunity to observe the surroundings.

White stone and marble were everywhere, and it gleamed in the dim light of the fragile day. The darkness that had covered the lands appeared to have withdrawn somewhat, but the sky was not clear. Lana could well imagine how blinding this city must be in broad daylight.

The architecture was strong yet refined. It reminded her of the eloquent castles build during the Renaissance. It was not as beautiful as Lothlórien, nor did it possess the grandeur of Moria, but it seemed to blend elegance with practicality in a way that was familiar and oddly comforting.

Lana followed Idith silently through an arched causeway that led outside, and down a shaded path. She vaguely recognized the way from when she was taken to her room the day before. The smell of the ivy crawling up the arched portico jogged her memory. Verdant and flourishing, it brought on vivid memories she hadn't thought about in years.

Somewhere in her muddled mind she saw a different colonnade, one made of rose-colored marble, grape vines heavy with fruit and the quality of light was golden instead of white. She blinked as her heart contracted with melancholy. She had not thought about her grandmother's estate in a very long time.

They came at last to the Houses of Healing. It was a large complex made up of one great building laid out in a U-shape, and several smaller outlying structures. But despite its size the majority of its rooms were still filled with the wounded. There was a sickly sweet scent on the air mixed with the metallic tang of blood, the sharp ammonia laden stench of urine, and the hopeless fragrance of misery.

Lana wrinkled her nose as the many smells assaulted her. She had always been particularly sensitive to odors, and this place was foul. She wondered how many would actually leave alive. Still, it was cleaner than what she had expected of a Middle Ages hospital.

Following Idith, Lana was led to the head healer. Hirgon looked stretched to his limit and then some. His eyes were bloodshot and he moved sluggishly. But he still ordered his staff around with authority.

Seeing Lana he paused midsentence and then made his way to her. "My lady," he rasped bowing his head. Clearing his throat he continued. "How might I be of service to you?"

By now she was well known to Hirgon and to his staff. She was the Elf's Lady, though she was unaware of this unofficial title.

"I would like to see Éowyn; if she is well enough to have visitors."

Hirgon pursed his lips, thinking. "She should be resting, but does not. Much like yourself, begging your pardon, my lady. Perhaps it would do her good to see a friend?"

He ended on a question for he was unsure if the two women were friends at all. Lana nodded though and she followed Hirgon up some stairs to a quieter level. Up here the air smelled cleaner and Lana inhaled gratefully.

Patients who required less attention but still needed to be supervised were on this floor. There were not many of these, or at least Lana didn't see many people.

There was a terrace and an upper garden on this floor. Steps led down to the main level gardens, but in this secluded upper place peace lingered. It was a haven compared to the lower level. The garden boasted a small fountain. Its furthest boundary was squared off with a low wall and arched portals. The windows were glass-free and a gentle breeze moved through the shrubbery.

Lana stared longingly at the terrace garden. Then she caught sight of someone.

Hirgon was about to move on when he too paused, seeing the Lady of Rohan. She leaned against a window seat in the garden, looking east. Clearing his throat he started to speak. "My lady,"

But Lana brushed past not waiting for Hirgon to announce her. Éowyn had turned at his voice and her eyes grew wide. She pushed herself upright, albeit slowly. Lana flew into her arms holding the younger woman as tightly as she dared without injuring Éowyn or herself.

"Thank God you're alright!"

Éowyn squeezed her back. "Aye. Death would have claimed me had not Lord Aragorn saved me from the Black Breath." She drew back and looked Lana over with eager but amazed eyes. "What are you doing here? When did you arrive?"

Hirgon left them discreetly as Lana and the White Lady sat down. Looking over Éowyn she could see the effects of her injuries clearly written on her face. She looked gaunt and paler than a ghost. Her shield arm was splinted and in a sling. Her hair had lost most of its luster, but her eyes held some of their usual spark.

"I rode with the army. I hid in the back of the _éored_. When I couldn't find you or Merry that day, I came to a decision to ride with the company."

Éowyn tilted her head, her hair sliding over her shoulder. "But I thought you didn't want to fight."

Lana nodded. "I didn't, but I had to come. I had to see…back home…" she paused and inhaled deeply.

She had already decided she would reveal some of her past to Éowyn. The time hadn't presented itself until now, though. But Éowyn was trustworthy, and even though their relationship was frigid at best, Lana counted her as a friend nonetheless. _And my only female friend._

"Back home I was journalist—that is to say, someone who goes places and reports on what is happening there. I've been in war before, not as a soldier but as a witness, you could say. It was my job to report on what was happening in the lands outside my own.

"When I joined Aragorn and his company, I wasn't doing it to fight…" she paused again choosing her words carefully. "But this war is huge, and it affects everyone, and the stories need to be told. Not just of battles and number of lives lost, but of the _people_ themselves. I came because I _had to see."_

The Shield Maiden studied her intently never having seen such passion in the other woman before. Yet it was an intensity she could understand, for it matched her own. Even now she prowled the Houses eager to be set loose.

Surprisingly Éowyn felt empty. She had thought that once she achieved glory on the battlefield she would have the renown and respect she desired. But there was nothing in her. She felt just as empty as before—if not more so. The paradox left her feeling depressed and listless. Part of her wished for the end. At least then she wouldn't be a prisoner of Fate.

Yet seeing Lana cheered her somewhat.

They sat together, each recounting their stories. Lana had been horrified to hear that it was the Witch King of Angmar who Éowyn challenged. Yet even more wondrous was the news that she destroyed him. He was Sauron's right hand, Lana learned, and it was no simple task to defeat something that was already dead. How the Shield Maiden did it Lana couldn't comprehend. The mere shriek of the Nazgûl made her cower.

As for her own story, she told Éowyn all that she could remember. There were still gaps in her memory, images that were unclear, but she recalled enough. It seemed her brain was steadily filling in the gaps. Éowyn's eyes widened as Lana explained her temporary amnesia.

"You poor woman! I cannot imagine!" She exclaimed.

Lana nodded. It had been close. Even now her head hurt, but it was reduced to a dull ache that she could ignore for the moment. The bandage was still wound tightly around her skull but Lana didn't think there was any danger of her brains falling out.

Éowyn glanced at it. "But how relieved Lord Aragorn and Lord Legolas must be that you are alive."

Lana lowered her eyes. "I'm not so sure,"

"Whatever do you mean?"

Lana rubbed her splinted fingers gingerly. "They were both furious with me. They said I disobeyed them. Again." She sighed deeply. "I tried to explain to them why I had come, but Legolas…he wouldn't accept my reason."

Much to her chagrin tears stung her eyes. Blinking forcefully she viciously stamped down the heartache.

"Men rarely seem to understand why we women must do the things we do." Éowyn reasoned. "They seek to cage us."

Lana laughed but it was devoid of humor. "And neither of us can abide _that!"_ She met Éowyn's rueful smile.

The Shield Maiden's humor faded then. "I fear that despite all I have accomplished they will again seek to cage me again. I cannot go back to that!" Éowyn said vehemently. "I refuse to wait idly for a man to make use of me."

Lana smiled. "I wouldn't like that either. You have too much to give in ways that can be hard for people to understand." Lana exhaled and eased her back against the window seat. "I have always done as I wished until coming here. I respect Aragorn—love him like my brother, and Legolas," her gaze grew distant. "I love him _so much."_

Her eyes watered again as she let out an exasperated sound. "But I fear I have lost him. He cannot accept this part of me. But it is who I am. I cannot allow injustices and atrocities to go unrecorded. However can we learn from our mistakes if we just forget them? It's easy to dismiss the cost of war when it's just a faceless number." Lana shook her head carefully, trying to contain the toxic mixture of frustration, heartbreak, and anger. "He doesn't understand."

"I cannot believe that,"

"I can," Lana said remorsefully. "You did not see his face, Éowyn. I have never seen him so furious…I think perhaps I pushed him too far. I don't know." With her good hand, she rubbed her forehead. "I don't know a lot about elves. I might have blown it."

Éowyn tilted her head to one side. "I cannot say that I know much about them either, but what I have been taught is that their love is eternal. I do not think he would give you up."

"But he didn't accept why I came here! And if he can't accept that, then he can't accept me!" She argued. "It is who I am—I have to see, I have to know, and give voice to the voiceless! It is my reason for living. This is who I am."

She ended nearly on a whisper. Deep in her heart Lana feared that Legolas would never understand this. Perhaps they were just too different. She had not thought all this through when she gave her heart to him. _My brain has been addled since first arriving here._ It was for him that she gave up the hope of ever seeing home again. She was forsaking so much just to stay with him—an elvish prince. _An _immortal_ elvish prince._

_What have I gotten myself into?_

Her heart was beating frantically against her ribcage. Doubts started to fill her mind. She felt tossed to and fro unable to decipher what her heart and mind argued over. It caused her already swollen head to pulse in agony. She pressed her fingertips to her brow trying to rub the pain away.

Éowyn leaned forward and reached for Lana's hands. Her cool blue eyes held hers. "Things will work themselves out. If they do not, then perhaps it was never meant to be."

Lana couldn't hold her gaze. She nodded though her lips trembled at the thought. She wasn't ready to give Legolas up. But she was petrified that he was ready to toss her aside. She _had_ to speak with him, but she didn't know where he was or what he was doing. Part of her thought she sensed him, but of course that was nonsense.

Still she couldn't dismiss that there was some kind of intense emotional connection between them. Or there was on her part. And like an addict, she couldn't just simply let him go. Of course, she didn't understand the intensity of elven emotions or what happens when elves give their hearts to another. She was still very much blind in that regard. All she had to go one were Aragorn's and now Éowyn's words of assurance.

Feeling emotionally fragile and physically drained, Lana stayed with Éowyn until Hirgon reappeared. A dwarf was seeking her, he said with a furrowed brow. Smirking she traded an amused glance with Éowyn before taking her leave.

Following the healer outside to the gardens, Hirgon led her around to the front. Gimli stood observing the trimmed hedges that grew before the building. Tiny white buds were sprinkled amid the dark green leaves. Lana had never seen him so engrossed with vegetation before. Her lips quirked. Hearing her approach he turned and smiled, though there was concern in his deep eyes.

"We turn our backs on you for a moment and off you go gallanting into battle." He said by way of greeting. There was humor in his eyes, however.

Lana held out her good hand to him, her lips curving in a smile. Gimli took it gently and kissed it quite tenderly.

"I seem to recall a time when you loathed the very thought of battle. Now we can't keep you away."

Lana chuckled. "Well, I suppose I've had some sense knocked into me—or _out_ maybe."

They laughed together. Then Gimli's eyes turned serious. "How do you fare, lass? You had me worried."

He guided her to a bench so they could sit. His eyes, while not as keen as the elf's, saw the pain she tried to hide away. Lana moved stiffly and her breathing was unsteady. At times, there was a faint tick in her eye as pain shot through her. She looked a right sight with her bandaged head, bruises, and splinted fingers. Yet she bore it all with a grace that was beyond his reckoning.

"I am sorry about that. I didn't want to worry anyone." She sighed as if a great weight sat on her chest. "I wasn't intending to join the battle. I just wanted to observe."

Gimli nodded. He had learned as much from Aragorn. Legolas was unduly silent and had said nothing of Lana. An odd turn as the elf seemed incapable of _not_ speaking of her.

After the strategic council, Legolas had disappeared once more. Gimli could well understand Legolas' fury. When Aragorn had informed him of her reasons he had wanted to knock some sense into her. But apparently he would have to wait in line.

Yet, part of him had to admire her tenacity. He was just glad he wasn't the one in love with her!

What she put Legolas through was unfair, he thought. But then his mother had always said that the paths of love never did run smooth. If this was how love ran its course then Gimli swore to never succumb to it! Better to have a pure, uncomplicated, chivalrous love than this so-called true love.

Lana asked him of the battle, which surprised him. He had assumed Legolas or at the very least Aragorn would have told her the details, but she shook her head.

"I couldn't ask them. At the time, I was in just too much pain. And I didn't want to know." She paused her focus on her fingers. She tried to flex the bandaged digits and grimaced. "And I haven't seen Legolas since this morning."

Gimli wasn't surprised. The lad was still livid, though he thought it would not be long before the elf sought her out. Legolas was impossibly drawn to her.

In characteristic dwarvish manner, he filled her on the details of their flight through the mountains, summoning the dead, and the corsair ships. Gimli was not a bad storyteller, and Lana was riveted to his tale. But she frowned as he mentioned Legolas strange trance on the boat.

"He was transfixed by seagulls?"

"Aye," Gimli sighed. "I did not understand it. I still don't. They were not fair of voice, nor particularly beautiful to look upon."

Lana frowned then suddenly became very still. "How far were you from the sea?"

Gimli looked up at her in puzzlement. She appeared suddenly very pale. "Are you alright, lass? You look a wee bit peckish."

Lana inhaled deeply and repeated her question.

"I am not sure, but close enough for the gulls to venture up to our location. There was a salty smell on the air too."

Lana's eyes slipped closed and she appeared to be in great pain. Worried Gimli put a hand on her arm.

"It's the Sea Longing, Gimli. Legolas must have heard the sea."

His brows lifted. He didn't know much about elves but he was aware of this strange yearning that could overtaken them. _Sea Longing. A seasickness more like!_ But he didn't fully understand what it meant.

"I don't know much about it," Lana whispered. "But I'm afraid for him. What if he has to _leave?"_ She faced him in sudden alarm.

"Leave?"

"Yes! He told me that the sea calls the elves to Valinor, or whatever that place is. It's something elves cannot ignore." Lana's face fell and she covered it with her hands. "Gimli he's going to _leave us!"_

The dwarf was clever enough to read between the lines. He knew the lass was afraid that the elf would leave _her_.

"Do not fret, Lana. He is bound to this quest, and his heart is in your hands," he reminded her. "I do not think the salt water will drag him away."

She looked up at him skeptically. "I hope you're right. I can't live without him."

* * *

_Thoughts?_

_Thank you all again so much for your reviews. They feed my muse!_

_And as always, thanks for reading! _


	52. Invictus

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.**

I don't own anything of Tolkien's Middle Earth. I just play there.

* * *

**Chapter 51: Invictus**

Legolas eyed Lana from where he stood hidden in the shadows. Gimli had entered in beside her, his steps tempered to her slowed gait. She moved easier now, but her full grace had yet to return. He could perceive a slight limp in her step. It was hardly anything; in fact he was certain she was nearly oblivious to it herself. But he saw it.

Still it did his heart wonders to see her up and about. He found it strange that he seemed to have forgiven her. It was as if the mere sight of her mended the wounds her folly created. She was alive and healing. What more could he ask for?

He snorted mentally. There was a growing list of things he wanted, and preeminent on that list was for Lana to stay safe and secure —even if that meant locking her in her room!

He had already decided that he would not tell her of their strategic meetings or plans. The less she knew the better. While Aragorn had informed him that Lana had given her word to stay in the citadel Legolas was still cautious. It wasn't that he didn't trust her, he told himself; he just wanted to be _certain_ she remained safe.

Gimli helped Lana to a table in the small hall they all occupied. Prior to the Steward's demise the room had been the mess hall for the citadel soldiers. Now it served as a dining room for Aragorn and those leaders of Gondor's army yet living. Éomer and his captains were present as well. The day was done, and now was the time to rest weary minds and hearts, and break bread together.

Lana's appearance did not go unnoticed. Legolas' eyes narrowed as he saw the men stare curiously at her. She seemed unaware of their looks. In fact, she looked rather pale as she sat down. Worry nipped at his heart, even as he glared at the inquisitive onlookers.

"Why do you linger in the shadows, _Ernil?" Prince._

Legolas sighed at hearing Gandalf's voice.

"She hurts as you do. Separating yourself will accomplish nothing but more pain for each of you."

Legolas crossed his arms and looked down. "I cannot speak with her…not yet."

Gandalf made a noise of dry skepticism in his throat. "Leaving words unspoken can be just as wounding as words harshly said. Better you make amends before we leave for battle."

The wizard left him to his stewing and went to sit with Lana and Gimli. Legolas watched as they conversed together. His heart would jump each time Lana's lips curled into a smile. It was wane and weary, but a smile nonetheless. Part of him longed to move by her side. Or better yet, he desired to whisk her away to some private place where he could just hold her. Instead, he kept himself hidden.

He saw her look up from time to time and search the room. His body would tense each time her eyes passed over his hiding place, but she didn't see him. It was only after most of the diners had consumed their meals that Legolas pushed himself forward to join Aragorn and the other captains around the central open fire. Lana was left sitting alone and she did not note his entrance.

But he felt her eyes upon him moments later. Slowly he met her gaze, careful to keep his immutable mask in place. He saw the longing that burned in her look. Her lips parted as she inhaled.

The discussion around him faded away as he was held rapt by her eyes. It was only broken when Éomer spoke her name.

"Perhaps the Lady Lana can gift us with a song this eve to lift our spirits ere we retire, if she is able?"

Lana's eyes shifted to the golden-manned Rohirrim. Slowly her gaze drifted to all the curious faces staring at her before returning to Legolas. She broke their connection, her lips thinning into a weak smirk that told of some inner thought that seemed paradoxically defiant and compliant.

Clearing her throat she nodded to Éomer. "Aye, Éomer, I have one song in me. But you will forgive me if my voice is fragile at this time." She spoke in slightly accented tones, almost unconsciously assuming a performance persona.

Graciously the new, yet uncrowned King of the Rohirrim, moved to Lana's side and helped her rise. Legolas felt his muscles tense as she gave the man a soft smile. Éomer then stepped back with a half bow and left Lana to stand on her own.

Despite the bandage on her head and the bruises that marred her skin, she managed to look elegant. And powerful. She lifted her chin and looked on her audience with an alluring confidence—or at least so he thought. Irrationally, Legolas wanted to hide Lana away. If the men looked on her now with such awe, who could say how they would gaze upon her when she was hale and whole again?

His inner battle was stymied as Lana started to hum a haunting tune. Her voice gradually warmed to the music. Soon her lips parted and a clear singular sound issued forth. Immediately everyone stilled, listening to the wordless melody.

She sang a song of her own composition. Some years back she written the haunting tune to her favorite poem by William E. Henley. It had been dear to her heart since she was a child and she knew it faithfully. She had thought it a shame that no one had ever set the powerful words to song, and so she had set about trying. It wasn't easy for writing music was not the same as singing it. But with the help of her brother she had come up with a melody that she felt fit the mood of the poem.

This poem had come to mean more to her after her ordeals in Afghanistan, and in many ways it was her mantra. At times, in some of her darkest moments she had invoked the words like a prayer—but they were more of a reminder. A reminder that she was a survivor and that nothing or no one could defeat her innermost strength.

And she chose this song now to remind herself.

As she sang wordlessly, the melody built. It needed no accompaniment for the music seemed to swell beyond her. Then she sang out the first stanza. The raw power and haunting emotion of the music mystified all who sat there. They watched and listened as if ensorcelled.

_Out of the night that covers me,_

_Black as the pit from pole to pole,_

_I thank whatever gods may be_

_For my unconquerable soul._

_In the fell clutch of circumstance_

_I have not winced nor cried aloud._

_Under the bludgeonings of chance_

_My head is bloody, but unbowed._

_Beyond this place of wrath and tears_

_Looms but the Horror of the shade,_

_And yet the menace of the years_

_Finds and shall find me unafraid._

As she sang, her gaze slowly met each and every face until she rested her eyes upon Legolas.

_It matters not how strait the gate,_

_How charged with punishments the scroll,_

_I am the master of my fate,_

_I am the captain of my soul._

_I am the master of my fate,_

_I am the captain of my soul._

As the final note faded into the air she closed her eyes allowing the music's magic to seep back inside of her. When at last she opened her eyes the men seemed to collectively release a breath.

Gandalf was eyeing her with a new unconcealed interest. This was the first time the wizard had ever heard her sing. The power in her voice set his mind into motion.

"Thank you, Lady," Éomer breathed, bowing his head. "Your song shall forever dwell in my heart. Your voice is a gift from the Valar."

Lana bowed her head in acknowledgement of the praise. The others gathered there murmuring similarly. Softly she excused herself pleading exhaustion.

Legolas found himself fixed to the marble floor unable to move. Once again she had incapacitated him with her voice, yet he was happy to be in that moment. Her voice was an elixir that his ears readily lapped up. He reminisced that she must possess that so-called "magic" that mortals often spoke of.

His eyes drank in the gentle sway of her hips as she left the hall. She did not look back. Now all he wanted to do was hold her against him, to absorb all that she was into his being. Need surged through him.

Yet he could not follow her. Aragorn pulled him and Gimli aside to speak further. It appeared that their day was not yet done.

o0o

It would be a lie to say Lana wasn't disappointed when Legolas did not follow her. She had sensed he was nearby during the meal. Then he had materialized as if out of thin air with the determination to ignore her. She had at once felt a singular righteous anger that warred with her need to speak with him. How dare he ignore her! It was childish. But it was also a sure sign that he was still furious with her.

It was an immense relief when he at last met her gaze. That simple connection had been electric. She felt it in her very soul. And how her heart cried out for him. At this point she was even willing to plead with him, give him anything he desired so that the distance between them would disappear. And that frightened her.

Never before had she felt such a strong pull for any person. She couldn't even say that she shared that sort of connection with Aidan—and they were twins! Reaching her room she yanked the door open and then kicked it closed behind her. The resulting slam echoed, but she didn't care.

It was dark in her room. And quite chilly. No one had lit a fire or even a lamp. Sighing in annoyance she felt a pang of longing for electric lights and internal heating.

Moving around blindly, she finally discovered some spark rocks near the fireplace but she didn't trust herself with them. More searching and she at last found her backpack in the wardrobe. With a hum of muted relief she dug into it and fished out her lighter.

The Zippo lighter with the American flag on the one side brought a wealth of emotion to her. How she missed home! She hadn't felt this homesick since her arrival in Middle Earth. She remembered buying the insignificant lighter on a trip to Boulder, Colorado. That was years ago, just after her gradation for her bachelor's degree.

Flicking back the lid she ignited the little flame. A soft orange glow chased away the immediate shadows. She stared at it; then snapped the lid shut. The shadows jumped back. She flicked the lid once more and repeated the process. She did this five times. _Flick!_ Illumination. _Snap!_ Darkness.

There was no point to it. She did it for no other reason than she found some sort of odd comfort in having something from home that worked. She flicked it open yet again and stared longingly at the flame. The little lighter had traveled far with her. And not once had it failed her.

Lighting a fire she returned to rifling through her backpack, this time searching for her iPhone. It was gone. With a frown she brushed back the hair that kept falling in her eyes. Then she groaned as she finally recalled what happened to it.

Frustration welled up within her and she let out a howl and threw her bag across the room. Clothes, the Converse shoes, and her sketchbook flew out from the open pockets. Hair falling in her eyes she reached up and clawed at the bandage that covered her head. Loosening the knot it fell away.

She tempered her agitated movements as her skull sliced a warning into her brain. Swearing out loud she gingerly she pulled the end from the back of her head half expecting to see blood. There was none, but a yellowish stain was on the lint pad. She probed the back of her skull and found it still quite tender. By now though, she was conditioned to pain so that it didn't inhibit her quite as much. It was her heart that was aching now.

Lana moved to sit in front of the polished brass mirror that the room boasted. Her face was scratched and her lips were cracked but healing. Dark circles were under her eyes and she looked underweight. The once lustrous hair was dull and snarled with tangles due to the bandage. Her right hand was still very tender. The splinted fingers were stiff and awkward. She kept forgetting that she couldn't use her hand until she tried to do something with it.

The arrow wound on her side was mending again, but it too made itself known if she tried to bend over or move too quickly. Her right leg was heavily bruised from having Hasufel fall on her. She was lucky the bones didn't get crushed. But she did have a limp. Even now she tended to lean her weight on her left foot.

Lana grimaced at her reflection.

_I look disgusting._ She narrowed her eyes at herself. Remembering Legolas' blank face and then his empty stare at dinner caused a wellspring of self-loathing to rise within her.

"I hate you." She choked out acrimoniously. "You're a fucking idiot."

She wanted to throw something at the mirror—break it. But instead she whirled away and moved to collapse on the couch that near the fireplace. She leaned over the armrest to stare into the fire.

Her mind drifted and she thought once more about her brother. Now more than ever she wished he was here. Aidan could make everything right—he could make everyone understand, for there was no one who knew her like him.

"Oh Aidan!" She gasped gripping her head with her hands. "Where are you? I need you! I just…need you."

Heartsick, physically hurting, and alone Lana dragged herself away from the couch. Desiring once more the comforts of home she picked up her yoga clothes from the mess on the floor. She crawled into her bed and stared out the large windows.

The sky was dark. Now and then a faint star appeared, but mostly just dark clouds obscured the heavens. The roiling atmosphere was the perfect counterpart to her thoughts. And just like the reluctant stars a tear would occasionally appearing, escaping her eye to roll lazily down her face.

Time crawled passed but Lana could not sleep. It felt late but with the sky covered she couldn't tell if the moon had risen or fallen. Her heart jumped when a soft knock sounded on her door. Rolling over she sat up stiffly. Uncertain if she actually heard anything she stared at the door. Her mind immediately went to Legolas.

"Who is it?" She called uncertainly.

Nothing happened and she became convinced that it was her imagination when the door suddenly clicked open. Lana gripped the blankets as her visitor was revealed. Her fingers did not loosen their death grip as she recognized him. Staring hard she felt inexplicably nervous. She inhaled through parted lips.

"Lana," he breathed.

Legolas stood in her doorway seeming as tentative as she was. The firelight touched his form gilding it with a golden red glow. She had traveled with him for months now; had trained and learned from him; yet there were still times when she was reminded of how vastly different he was from her. This otherworldly creature seemed a star too high and bright for her. They moved in different circles, able to see each other—but could they ever truly come together?

"May I come in?" He asked lowly.

She nodded gradually, still shocked to see him. He closed the door almost silently. His eyes focused on the task, but once it was completed he seemed to hesitate to meet her gaze. Instead he stared at the mess on her floor.

Lana held no such reservations however. Pushing herself out of the bed she moved to his side but kept some distance between them. Her sudden movement caused him to look up.

"Why don't we sit down?" Gesturing to the couch and chairs she moved past and sat facing him.

Legolas capitulated. He eased down onto one of the chairs but sat erect. For several moments nothing happened. The only sound was the fire hissing in the hearth. Lana searched his face looking for some clue to his thoughts. She had so much she wanted to say, but suddenly her tongue felt glued to the roof of her mouth.

The elf folded his hands and stared at them. The long fall of his hair fell forward partly obscuring his expression. Finally, Lana could stand it no more.

"I've missed you," she whispered causing his eyes to snap to hers. His gaze was intense and she saw many things move behind his eyes, too quick to name. Her heart was beating like a drumline even as her mind searched for a way to bridge the distance that still gaped between them.

"I have been thinking," he said at last, his voice even.

Those simple words made her gut squeeze. Surely he was going to tell her that things would never work out; that he now realized that their differences were too great and too many. How she hated those words! So ambiguous! And unforgiving…

When he didn't continue she echoed with a courage she did not feel, "You've been thinking?"

Legolas sighed and ran a hand over his face before meeting her eyes. "I have spent many long hours in thought—many long _days_. And those thoughts have been on you."

The chasm between them seemed to grow in Lana's mind, but she bravely held his gaze even though she clenched her jaw.

"You have brought me more joy than I ever thought possible. You have been a light in this dark time." He lowered his gaze, his thoughts seeming to turn inward.

Swallowing Lana forced her voice to match his tranquility. "But?"

He lifted his eyes and Lana saw anger, pain, and disappointment. It took all her strength to not break under that dreadful gaze.

"But you seem to have no regard for your life or our love. Your need to walk alone appears stronger than your commitment to us."

Lana began to shake her head, but he held up a hand.

"Tell me _why_ Lana—and do not say that it is who you are, for I know it is not. Unless you have been untrue all these months."

By now she was shaking with barely suppressed emotions. She shook her head again vehemently. "No, I have only ever been myself. I would never lie to you!" She rushed to tell him.

"Then why did you do it?"

Lana dropped her head trying to compose herself. When she spoke her voice wavered a little but she forced herself to speak around the pain in her heart.

"I admit it; it was selfish of me. _I am sorry!"_ She forced herself to meet his eyes though it made her want to cry. "I guess I don't know how to act as a couple—to think as one. All my life I have been independent—doing what I want, when I want—following my heart. But I've also never allowed myself to love like I love you."

The words tumbled from her lips and as they fell she realized their validity. Her eyes glistened as she thought back to her youth.

"I didn't have a good example of what a meaningful relationship could be like. My parents divorced—not that that's any excuse but I would have you understand. I saw the pain of love gone sour. I've always protected myself, guarded my heart closely, even when I dated other men. I never allowed them as close as I've allowed you."

Inhaling shakily she blinked trying to force her tears away. Legolas' face was a blank wall and she didn't know if anything she said was reaching him. The thought of losing him pushed her forward and she knelt at his feet, putting her hands on his thigh. He seemed to draw back from her slightly, which made her heart scream.

"I was _afraid_ of love. You've changed me; you've made me _better!_ I no longer want to walk alone through my life. I'm not perfect. I make mistakes, and I don't always foresee the repercussions of my actions. All I can say is that I am sorry and that I will spend everyday of my life trying to do better, to be the woman worthy of your love."

A sob broke from her throat and she bowed her head to his knee. "I love you so much! I can't lose you! I'm so sorry, Legolas. I'm sorry that I've failed you…failed us."

She did not see it but Legolas was severely shaken. Her outpouring was more than he expected. Other than the night she recounted her bitter past, he had never seen her so broken. It cut his heart to see how their love had turned into this twisted painful thing. He never knew it could be like this. It was biting and harsh—not at all how the great love stories went.

Her words of love gone sour struck a cord within him. It vibrated with dark intensity that immediately caused his protective instincts to flare up. He refused to let that happen. Seeing his beloved crumpled at his feet pushed him to reach out. He laid his hand on her head carefully smoothing her hair, which was free about her shoulders.

Leaning down he lifted her chin. Her eyes were red with tears and they looked up forlornly at him. He inhaled sharply. With tenderness he brushed the tears away.

_"Garich meleth nín." You have my love._

Surprise then relief flooded her face and she cried harder now. Sliding down to the floor, Legolas enfolded her in his arms. His free hand smoothed her hair as he kissed her temple. He murmured soothingly words of assurance and forgiveness. His heart finally had some measure of peace, though it ached for the pain she now felt.

Of course he still felt some residual anger. However that was turning into a less volatile emotion: frustration. He was still not completely able to trust her, but his love was greater than his misgivings. She was right. _This_ was part of who she was, and he would have to accept that—but at the same time he believed she would change. They both would change and_ grow. _

_Together._

And that's what mattered in the end. Not their differences but their ability to move beyond that and still love each other. And Legolas still had faith in that. Their love could and _would_ survive this. After all, Eru must have some reason for bringing them together.

As Lana continued to weep concern took the place recently vacated by his fury. It paced around his mind. He thought perhaps it wasn't wise to have pushed her thusly, especially after all the trauma she went through. But he couldn't regret it now. The answers he desired were had.

"All is well, _Melethril_. There is no need for tears now." He reached for the hand that clenched at his tunic.

"I'm so sorry," she mumbled again.

_"Istan."_ He kissed her fingers. "I would ask your forgiveness too,"

Instead of looking up as he expected her to do, she curled herself closer to him. Automatically his arms tightened around her.

"It was wrong of me to force this upon you. I fear it will inhibit your healing."

Lana shook her head. "It won't. It will help." She mumbled into his tunic.

Legolas sat there on the floor holding her to his heart until all her tears were spent. And he continued to hold her for a long while after that. He stared at the fire as he stroked her hair. Softly he began to sing. It was a song of the forest and of love lost then found again. It was an old Silvan ballad, one he had heard his mother sing once many long centuries ago. Why he thought of it now, he couldn't say. It just felt right.

Eventually he looked down certain Lana was asleep. But her eyes were open and she was staring into the fire as well. As if feeling his gaze she looked up. There was still great sorrow and regret in her eyes. He smiled reassuringly at her.

"I have forgiven you, there is no need to look like that any further."

Lana smirked humorlessly. "But it still hurts."

Legolas leaned forward and kissed her cheekbone. "Aye, but as you say, we will heal." His lips hovered over her skin, reluctant to move away. The salt from her tears touched his tongue as he continued to trail his lips over her face.

"Despite it all, I cannot live without you, Lana. You have become so very dear to my heart. It would kill me to have you taken from me." He murmured in her ear before kissing the soft spot below it.

She shivered and he smiled, reveling in this singular power over her. Her pulse raced under his lips and he lingered there. At last he pulled away just enough so he could see her eyes rimmed red from her crying.

_"Padid vi Mordor, ah aphadin en le. Na medui baradh, gur nín gleinná na di gureg."_

_You could walk into Mordor and still I would follow you. To whatever end, my heart is already bound with yours._

He murmured in his native tongue. How much she understood he didn't know, but he didn't care to translate. He was moved to speak in his own language for the Common Tongue failed to express what it was in his heart.

"Legolas," she whispered, and she touched his face with a trembling hand.

He leaned into her touch. Then he took her hand and kissed her palm, while staring deeply into her eyes. They grew dark as they dilated. A slow building desire changed the color of her eyes to a deep indigo. Her chest rose and fell against his. Holding her transfixed he leaned forward and finally claimed her lips.

This kiss stood out from all the previous. In this touch Legolas seemed to be claiming rights previously not taken. He was aggressive, demanding entrance into her mouth. His hands moved to hold her securely to him.

_"Garin le,"_ he softly growled against her lips._ You are mine._

Lana melted against him, giving herself without reservation. Had she not known better, she would have believed Legolas to be greatly skilled in the art of love. Clearly he was learning. He stoked her passions but instead of rising up to meet his, she allowed him the liberties he desired—her gift to him.

Legolas moved to kiss her neck. Then he freed a hand to rove over her shoulders and down across her clavicle. His hand moved boldly, curving over her breast, squeezing it before moving to her hip. He dipped down to kiss the hollow space above her collarbones. She gasped when his teeth lightly sank into her. Moaning in a mixture of indistinct Italian and Gaelic, she let her head fall back.

It took all his strength to not give in to instinct. His body urged him to lay her down on the floor and stretch out over her. His blood was on fire and his need for her grew to unbearable heights. How he loved yet loathed this woman!

The idea shocked him. But as she had said of herself, it was the same for him. Legolas had also been independently minded for his entire life. It felt odd and frightening to feel so desperate for another living being. The joy she brought him far outweighed the pain though. He knew this with assurance.

Gradually slowing his pace he drew his lips away and pressed her firmly to his chest. Her head rested underneath his chin and he felt a distinct pleasure as her arms wrapped tightly around him.

"It is late. You need to rest." He sighed at last.

Lana looked up then gasped as he rose and easily scooped her into his arms. He laid her on the bed without any outward sign of effort. Pulling the blankets over her, he then leaned down and kissed her brow chastely.

_"Losto."_ He breathed. His heart was still thundering in his ears. _Sleep_.

Her hand darted out to catch his as he drew away. "Won't you stay with me?"

Covering her hand with his, he brought it up to his lips and kissed it. "Not this night, Cairnmel. This night you must rest. You need to heal."

She looked pleadingly up at him. "But I want you to stay." It was clear she did not understand his decision to leave.

He couldn't explain either, other than he just needed some space to put his thoughts in order. Staying with her would only distract him from knowing his own mind.

Bending over her again he kissed her forehead once more. "You will rest better on your own."

She shook her head, but he quelled her with a look learned from his father. "The dawn is not far off."

She exhaled deeply but didn't say anymore. Stroking her cheek he smiled down at her before stepping out of her room. Both were worn out by their emotions, and for once Legolas felt the urge to sleep as well. While his heart longed for him to stay he was uncertain if he could restrain himself. The urge to touch her, to have her laid bare before him was so strong that he knew he would get no rest if he stayed by her side. And he needed to ponder why this was. Thus he returned to his room.

When he at last reclined on his own bed his mind drifted, but instead of thinking about why Lana affected him so, or her apology, or explanations, Legolas found his thoughts drifting to future things. He imagined what it would be like to have the world free of Sauron and to claim Lana as his wife. He desired this more than anything. Even now his body hummed in anticipation.

What would it be like to have her to wife? He had never given marriage much thought before. Perhaps once or twice he had wondered what it would be like to lie with a woman, but now it was consuming his thoughts. His imagination ran wild and it caused an ache to throb between his legs.

Shifting uncomfortably he forced his mind to other things. Eventually the burn cooled as he imaged all the details of his wedding day. In his fantasies, his father accepted Lana with open arms and heart, as did his people. And there weren't complications like race and mortality. Life would be only bliss.

She would mother the children he now longed to have but never dared to hope would be. He wondered what she would be like as a mother and found that his imaginings of her in that role quite pleasant. Would they have sons or daughters? Or both?

In his family, sons were the tradition; at least on his paternal side. His father had been an only child, but his grandfather had a sister. She had travelled West well before his birth. Legolas wondered idly if his father remembered his aunt at all. He had been young when she departed for Aman.

His mother's side was also abundant in sons, but he was told he had one female cousin: an _elleth_ whom he had never met.

It would be good to have a woman back in Mirkwood he decided. The palace lacked a feminine hand.

Eventually Legolas drifted into a deep sleep, his eyes actually closed as true exhaustion claimed him. His mind ran rampant with pleasant dreams, which he resolved he would make true.

* * *

_Thoughts? _

_The poem Lana sings is of course _Invictus_ by William Ernest Henley. Sadly I know of no actual music version of his poem. If I had the talent I would write music for those beautiful words, but that is beyond me! Until then, we'll all just have to use our imaginations. _

_Thank you all for your reviews. They inspire me! So keep them coming. :) _

_And as always, thanks for reading. _


	53. Arrivals and Reflections

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.**

I don't own anything of Tolkien's Middle Earth. I just play there.

Those of you who have read the books will recognize some characters here. You will also know that Tolkien actually introduced them far earlier. I'm going to be weaving in a bit more book cannon moving forward.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 52: Arrivals and Reflections**

"My lord?"

Aragorn's reaction was instinctive. His hand immediately went to the knife kept under his pillow as the other gripped the collar of the figure that bent over him. The guard stared down at him with large eyes full of shock and surrender. Realizing that he was in no danger, Aragorn grimaced apologetically with a lifted brow. What else could anyone expect of a Ranger of the North?

"My sincerest apologies to wake you, my lord, but your presence is requested most urgently."

Already throwing back the blanket and reaching for his boots Aragorn asked, "What is it? Who calls for me?"

The soldier looked rather baffled and his aberrant reply instantly put Aragorn on alert. "Some men from the north, ruffians I thought them. They arrived on foreign horses, hooded and cloaked. I thought them uncouth, but one spoke declaring he knew you and was sent by he who presides over Rivendell."

All apprehension disappeared and was replaced with sudden hope and exultant anticipation. Grabbing his cloak Aragorn rushed out to the courtyard, leaving behind all weapons and a very confused guardsman.

The Dúnedain turned to him as he entered the courtyard. He didn't bother to disguise his steps or his sudden joy.

"Halbarad! Elladan! Elrohir! My friends!"

Without a single reservation, Aragorn embraced those who were as close to him as family. The mingled sound of joy and pleasure at seeing dear friends after so long a parting caused the few bystanders to smile.

"What brings you here at our hour of need?" Aragorn questioned in amazement.

Halbarad smirked warmly. "News of your victories spreads," the smile then diminished. "But so too does news of pending doom. The Lady Galadriel sent word to us via her grandsons to make haste to your side."

Aragorn felt his deep abiding gratitude towards the Lady of Light grow yet again. In his heart he sent up a prayer of thanks with the hope that she would hear him. The night was chill however and he quickly invited the thirty clansmen inside. Calling for food and warm drink he sat down in conference with them.

To all he told what had since transpired since leaving Rivendell all those months ago. However he left out the arrival of Lana. Time was of the essence, and he wished to stem the tide of questions that would arise concerning her. His kinsmen rejoiced in his victories but they soon grew solemn as Aragorn outlined the battle plan he had devised with the council of Gandalf, Éomer, and the still active generals of Gondor's army.

"What of Prince Imrahil?" Elladan inquired. His eyes matched his sire's in sharpness and his wisdom neared that of Elrond as well. "Has word been sent to Dol Amroth? Their forces could help tip the odds in our favor."

Aragorn sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Aye, so I thought too, but it was pointed out that their army could not reach Minas Tirith in time to depart for the Black Gates. But I sent word nonetheless. If they cannot fight with us at the Gates I would have the strength of the Swan Prince's army defending the city."

"Should we fail, there may be little hope for Minas Tirith." Elrohir pointed out solemnly.

Aragorn knew this all too well. It was his greatest fear. Should their sortie not give Frodo the time he needed—if the Ring-bearer was unsuccessful then nothing could stop Sauron's inevitable wrath.

"That is why we must not fail." Aragorn said resolutely. "The fate of the world depends on our ability to draw Sauron's Eye."

Every night, Aragorn had prayed for Frodo and Sam—prayed that their courage and strength not desert them and that they manage to slip past the Enemy's defenses. But there was no reassurance that Frodo was even alive. All he did know was that Sauron did not have his coveted trinket.

The Ring. How insignificant an item! So easily lost! And so it was for centuries. Yet in his guile and cunning, Sauron poured his power into the deceptively simple band, to the detriment of the Free Peoples. So much of the Middle Earth's suffering in the Second and Third Age was directly caused by magic rings and Sauron's virulent machinations. It would end here. One way or another; but as long as Aragorn drew breath he would see the Dark Lord brought low.

As the night deepened, the Dúnedain took their leave, guided to rooms where they might rest for what remained of the night. The sons of Elrond, however, remained behind. Aragorn lifted a brow at his stepsiblings as their eyes twinkled with some mischief.

"We come bearing a gift and words of comfort." Elladan said as his brother fetched a narrow roll of cloth.

Aragorn felt suddenly impatient, but he held his tongue. It did not go unnoticed by either of the brothers.

"Our sister bid us tell you she prays ceaselessly for you and your victory. Her faith in you has not wavered." Elladan continued with a half smile.

Elrohir placed the rolled bundle in Aragorn's hands. "She worked tirelessly for many months on this gift."

With reverence, Aragorn pulled the bindings loose. Laying the parcel on the table, he unfurled the contents. A flash of silver and white seemed to leap out of the dark confines. As the heavy cloth rolled out Aragorn felt his breath hitch. Before him lay an exquisite banner with the emblem of the Gondorian Kings stitched with threads like starlight. Seven stars arced over the White Tree of Númenor.

The black fabric on which it was stitched was at once durable and very fine. It bore a sheen like velvet but he knew it would bear any weather or battle without fading or dirtying. With fingers nearly shaking he lightly traced the elegant embroidery. Yet he barely touched it at all for fear of marring its beauty with his roughened hands.

He missed the shared smirking of the brothers. Inhaling slowly he looked up to those twins who had a hand in raising him.

"How…how is she?" He asked though he feared the answer.

Here the brothers' smiles dimmed. Elladan spoke. "Her light fades as her choice has been accepted by the Lords of the West."

"Our father fears for her," Elrohir added pensively. "He thinks on little else, and his heart is burdened. Though Arwen assures us that all is as she wishes."

Aragorn bowed his head. His world had ceased to turn when Elrond himself came to the Rohan encampment all those days ago. Bearing both Andúril and news of Arwen's sudden diminishing had been the needed push that enabled him to dare the Path of the Dead. Now more than ever it was imperative that he succeeded in his task.

Their future together depended on it.

o0o

Dawn arrived dimly. The darkness that lay over the east blotted out the first glimmer of the sun, yet even Sauron's witchcraft could not darken the whole of the sky. The people of Gondor looked to the east with vengeful determination. Already preparations were underway. The last stand of the Free Peoples of Middle Earth was coming.

Lana woke alone. The weak sunlight penetrated her eyelids coaxing her from sleep. Immediately her heart fell until she recalled the night before. Sweet relief and love filled her soul, but a frown marred what would have been a smile. It bothered her that Legolas chose to stay away that night. He had not done so willingly since declaring his love for her. While they had reconciled, for the most part, she felt a prick of doubt as to why he craved space so suddenly. It was not like him. But then, could she blame him?

Dismissing her worry as childish she stretched. The arrow wound made its presence known and she winced. It hardly had time to heal before her crazy antics rent it open again. She thanked God that it had remained clean and uninfected. Taking stock as she lay there, Lana realized how lucky she truly was. Death had come close one too many times recently. And she did not want to tempt fate further.

Had she not promised Aragorn to remain at the citadel her injuries alone would have forced her to remain. But it was easy enough to promise to stay behind when she had no idea what their next move would be. She could stay put: unless they intended to leave. What then? She sighed. It didn't matter either way. She had given her word. She was staying.

Rising cautiously she peeled back the blankets and set her feet on the floor. The room felt cold and her skin prickled but for once it felt good. Her body was hot from the thick blankets and she had sweated during the night. When she tried to swallow she found her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Spying a pitcher of water across the room she forced her wobbly feet to work. It seemed that the mornings were the most difficult for her body but as she moved things loosened up.

She sighed deeply after drinking two glasses of water then wandered over to the floor-to-ceiling windows. They were impressive. Lana didn't think that this world had the technology to create such large sheets of glass, but apparently it did. This brought new questions to her mind that she shelved for later investigation. For the moment she was more interested in finding a way to the balcony.

The windows were shut tightly, but a cool draft wafted through the gap between the doors and their frames. Her breath frosted the glass as she frowned at the pale sky. It seemed spring was delayed in coming.

Turning to the wardrobe she flung back the doors. It was not full but it held a few simple but soigné gowns and the heavy cloak she wore the day before as well as a light silken robe. Again she wondered whose clothes these were. They were exceptionally fine. Lana's fingers ran over the silk robe. It was white trimmed in black. Silver stars were stitched on the hems. She slid it off its hook and wrapped herself in the luxurious fabric. Instantly the silk warmed to her body.

Focusing again on the windows she finally discovered the doors that led out to the balcony. A sharp breeze billowed the curtains and her robe as she pulled the doors open. She shivered in the cold breeze but didn't bother to belt the robe closed. A strange mood was on her. She felt restless and yet strangely removed. The aches of her body were of little consequence as her mind garnered her full attention.

Moving as if in a dream she leaned against the balustrade and looked to the east. The Mountains of Shadow were aptly named. Darkness almost like night hung heavy over their peaks. Beneath them, there was a faint flicker of red. Lana felt a deep malice that seemed to infect the air, and in turn, it infected her thoughts.

"The mawing jaws of hell," she murmured poetically. "Oh, what end awaits you, dreadful titan?"

After everything she had seen—all that she had witnessed—Lana still found it difficult to believe that a demon manifested itself over those toothed peaks. Rational thought balked against it. Yet she could feel the hate. It seemed to pour over the land like a putrid burning brume.

While not superstitious in the least, Lana had come to accept that there were unseen things that could infest a space: be it a house, a land, or an object. For all her pragmatism she did have a streak of faith that allowed her to be open to the idea that spirits — good or evil — could influence the physical world. And she had been raised in a religious family, which had in many ways shaped her unconscious mind.

She took for granted that God existed. Never doubted it—actually it was one thing she never thought to question as religion had only been peripheral in her mind. Therefore it took a lot of convincing for her to believe in supernatural phenomena. Her scientific brain frequently warred with her romantic imagination.

However, she had certain experiences that could not be dismissed so easily. Looking now towards Mordor, Lana knew without a doubt that great evil dwelled beyond those jagged mountains. Her mind instantly turned to Frodo and Sam. Had they made it there? Where were they now? If the bad vibrations she sensed were any indication, it was not a pleasant place to be. Her heart went out to them.

Since her awakening she had heard little news other than Gondor had won a surprising victory with the aid of the Rohirrim. She had since heard the full tale of Éowyn and Merry's heroics. But no one had told her what came next. Until now she had not wanted to ask. She had been too heartbroken and physically ill to care about anything beyond herself. But now that she was healing in heart and body, and getting stronger. Her indomitable spirit perked up again. Her fingers curled, nails scraping the stone railing.

"Milady! What are you doing?"

Startled Lana pivoted and saw Idith come rushing to her side. The woman's white starched apron bounced stiffly with her sudden movement.

"You'll catch your death out there! Come back in here now!"

She grabbed Lana forcefully by the elbow and drew her inside to sit by the fire. Promptly Idith closed the balcony doors and then perfunctorily wrapped a blanket over Lana's legs.

"It may yet be spring but it's the coldest spring in many a long year. You must take better care lest you find yourself back in the Houses." Idith admonished tartly.

In contrast to yesterday, Lana felt some dry amusement towards the nurse's exasperation. It seemed that no matter where you were, all nurses were the same. She watched as the other woman bustled about like a hummingbird.

Today, her dark brown hair was uncovered. It gleamed with youth though the lines on her face made her look older. Her deep brown locks were braided up on her crown, effectively keeping it out of her eyes. She seemed to have boundless energy was she flitted here and there. All the while she continued to grouse about the annoying traits of patients who pushed themselves too far too soon.

Watching this display of ceaseless energy Lana wondered how old Idith actually was. She seemed hardly older than herself. But her musings were interrupted when the orderly set a tray of food firmly on Lana's lap.

"It's not that cold," Lana protested dryly when Idith had taken a breath. She eyed the breakfast on her tray.

_"Humph!_ I think more than your memory was addled," Idith griped then she grimaced. "Your pardon, milady. I did not mean to say that aloud."

Lana smirked. "Don't worry about it. You're probably right."

Breakfast was once again porridge with butter. When she asked Idith if there was anything else besides oatmeal she earned an arched look that was quickly smoothed over once more. Idith retorted that there was little food to be had, what with so many soldiers and wounded. And there was no food coming in. The kitchens were strained with the city more or less destroyed.

"You'll have to make do like the rest of us," she sniped. Then belatedly she added, "Begging your pardon, milady."

Lana lifted a brow but nodded. She got the sense that Idith must think her an arrogant highborn lady or something of that kind. And the way the nurse kept slipping up on her manners made Lana wonder if perhaps she wasn't all that unaware of her actions. Shrugging she ate her porridge without complaint. She had been merely curious and did not intend to sound ungrateful.

Lana had seen the damage the city sustained. Entire blocks had been destroyed by fire and catapulted projectiles. Even from the height up on the sixth ring, she could see the remains sticking up like splintered bones. The whiteness of the stones only added to that illusion. The damage was substantial. Even though this world lacked modern weapons the enemy seemed quite skilled at destruction. It was no wonder supplies were limited.

It would take years to rebuild everything. But it was a testament to the architects of the Minas Tirith that _anything_ was left standing.

Idith left and Lana decided to search for Legolas and the rest of the Fellowship. No one had come to call on her and she didn't know what that meant—if it meant anything at all. Either way, she desired to talk to someone. She still felt strangely moody and didn't want to be alone. After much searching and inquiry, she discovered that Legolas, along with the rest of her companions, were in councils for the day.

"Strategic planning, my lady," a retainer told her flatly. "They are not to be disturbed." He eyed her speculatively but also with thinly veiled suspicion. For the life of her, Lana couldn't understand why he would give her such a look. She was hardly threatening!

He, on the other hand, was armed with sword and covered in armor emblazoned with the symbols of the city. Dark hair and deep eyes met her gaze arrogantly.

Lana's lips thinned and she wondered if she should press her luck, but the man seemed dismissive and she didn't want to expend the energy arguing. Instead she flicked a brow and lifted her nose, and then turned her feet back towards the Houses of Healing.

It seemed that once again she was going to be on the sidelines. Not that sitting in councils sounded particularly appealing but at least she would know what was going on. Being left in the dark was aggravating. So much so that her head was starting to hurt from her frustration. In fact, all her aches refused to be ignored any longer.

This time, Hirgon discovered her right as she walked through the door. "You removed your bandage!" He exclaimed in rebuke.

Ushering her into a curtained off area that looked like his private apothecary he had her sit on a stool so he could examine her. Questions about her level of pain were thrown at her as the healer poked and probed her skull. Lana winced as his fingers touched the swollen area at the back of her head. Slapping his hand away she quipped with asperity, "It doesn't hurt unless you touch it! Geez!"

Hirgon was not put off, however. "I would have rather you kept the bandage on another day but it appears you are mending well enough. What about the arrow wound? Does it pain you?"

She inhaled carefully trying to make honest calibrations on how painful it was. By comparison, that injury was easier to tolerate than her head. The new stitches had not pulled out and there was no discharge — and here she sent up a prayer of thanks to whichever deity deigned to listen. After seeing medicine in this world she prayed she never got sick or injured again. Hirgon then examined her hand and reminded her to not overuse it.

Lana asked for a general pain reliever—if they had anything. The head healer proscribed a tea that would help sooth the pain. She mentally threw up her hands. Herbal remedies didn't really do much when faced with puncture wounds and fractures. What she really wished she for was some Vicodin, or novocaine; or even just Tylenol. She missed modern medicine.

Once he was satisfied he let her go search for Éowyn. But as she climbed the stairs she heard familiar voices that made her halt in her tracks. Her heart leapt and she grabbed her skirts and ran up the last few steps ignoring the jolts of pain that shot through her. Following the boisterous laughter to an open room, she discovered them.

o0o

Meriadoc sat up in bed with his head bandaged as well as his hand. Pippin was with him, and he was talking animatedly about all that he had seen and done since they last parted. It did his heart well to see his cousin. Merry had thought he would never see Pippin again. In fact, he had thought he died out there on that field. It was a true miracle that he lived. And he had Strider to thank for that.

Still he wasn't feeling quite himself. A fatigue lingered in the corner of his mind, ready to spring upon him at a moment's notice. Worse was the persistent dread that would creep up unlooked for. In his dreams he saw the Witch King, and while he knew that the captain of the Nazgûl was destroyed it didn't prevent the nightmares.

He recalled then how Lana had many dreams — a lot of them distressing — while in Lothlórien. Now he believed he could sympathize with her whereas before he didn't understand. The workings of the mind were a curious thing indeed.

As if by merely thinking of her, she manifested in his doorway. A bright smile bloomed on his face. Pippin turned to see what he was looking at and with a shout of joy dashed off the bed and went to greet the foreign woman.

Merry felt his heart lift at seeing her and he wished he too could leap out of this bed. But he couldn't. So he waited with some impatience as his cousin hugged Lana, who had stooped down to his level.

"I'm so happy to see you both!" She said emotionally.

Her deep blue eyes glistened slightly he saw when they connected with his. In a moment, she was embracing him as well. Though it was gentle but tender, and Merry could feel her relief and joy. He felt the same, and he looked her over critically as she pulled back.

"We had heard you were injured," he said. "Yet you look hardly worse for wear."

Lana laughed, though it was cut short. He could see a jolt of pain pinch the skin around her eyes. She was still hurting; like him.

"The same could be said of you! But news of what you did is spreading. You are one crazy hobbit!" She razzed with a smirk.

Merry grinned as Pippin laughed. Then his cousin engaged her attention, and it gave Merry a moment to really look at Lana. She was dressed in a simple gray gown that hung limply on her frame. He noticed now how frail she appeared. She was gaining strength, but he hadn't seen her like this since after Helm's Deep. And even then she hadn't looked this thin. The bones on her face seemed to protrude, casting shadows on her cheeks. Her typically sparkly blue eyes were dimmer. Merry had to wonder what exactly had happened to her. But she beat him to the punch.

"I want to hear what happened." She demanded eagerly. "How did you end up riding with Éowyn? I looked for you both, but you had all disappeared."

"It's quite a tale," Merry replied shifting to get comfortable.

He filled Lana in on all the many details of how he joined the Rohan army. Being a hobbit meant that he was a fine storyteller and generous with particulars on such things as his armor, his sword, and helmet, his thoughts, how Éowyn looked, and how frightened yet determined they both had been.

Unaware that Lana had heard this tale from Éowyn, he waxed on and on. Lana listened avidly, some spark returning to her gaze.

"I have never felt a fear like I did that day. That Black Rider, he was the king of the riders you know—the one who stabbed Frodo on Weathertop—oh but wait! You don't know that story do you?"

One corner of Lana's lips curled. "No, but save it for later."

Merry nodded and carried on with prolixity. Only after he finished did Lana reveal her desire to one day sit down with him and write up his story. It was too good to go unrecorded she said with a sunny smile. This tickled Merry, and he agreed eagerly.

"Have you seen Strider?" Pippin interjected abruptly.

"Not today. I haven't seen anyone today, except you two." Lana unconsciously rubbed her right hand. Merry saw how it was splinted and sympathized. "I was told by this stuffy soldier-guy that they were all in some kind of strategic meeting. And I wasn't allowed to disturb them." She wrinkled her nose.

Merry sobered quickly. "I would think that Sauron's none too happy." He fell silent, his thoughts turning bleak. "The war is not over." The mordant drop in his tone caused Lana to tilt her head slightly.

Narrowing her eyes she assessed him and then to his surprise reached out with her good hand and covered his. He gave her a weak smile, which she returned compassionately.

Pippin, irrepressible as ever, chimed in, "What will they then do then? I don't think this city can withstand another battle."

Lana agreed. "I would think that consolidating strength here and fortifying the defenses would be the best option. From what little I heard Rohan's and Gondor's armies bore heavy casualties. I can't image them trying to fight again on the battlefield."

Her words were true. And it would make more sense to regroup and build up their strength in the fortress city, but Merry had a feeling deep in his stomach that told him Strider would seek a bolder move.

His thoughts fanned by like the pages of a book and soon enough he was thinking again about Frodo and Sam. He worried for them. Where were they now? The unknowing was worse than anything else. Merry refused to think that they might have died.

Pippin was now telling Lana about his own adventures, so Merry tuned it out. He wondered if there was news about his cousin and the gardener. He would have to find Strider and ask. Although he found it odd that Lana didn't have any information. Perhaps there was none to be had.

Merry sighed. The exhaustion was creeping up on him again. It would be good to sleep he decided. No matter what happened he wanted to be well enough to join his friends — be it in battle or siege.

Lana seemed to have noticed his tiredness and excused herself. Merry focused his eyes and smiled.

"I'm so glad to have seen you, Lana. You will come back soon, I hope?"

Her pale face looked wane as if she too was tired. "I plan to. Get some rest."

She squeezed his hand in farewell and left. For a moment Merry thought she was nothing more than a waif. The gray of her dress did not suit her pallor. He fervently hoped she would be well.

o0o

Leaving the hobbits for the time being, Lana sought out Éowyn once more. Although her head was splitting she felt the need for female companionship. In fact, just sitting in the garden and not speaking sounded like a wonderful idea. Perhaps they could get some of that pain-relief tea Hirgon prescribed.

As she predicted, Lana discovered Éowyn out on the terrace gardens, but she paused seeing that the woman wasn't alone. A handsome man was speaking with her. His face was kind and his smile was warm as he looked down upon the reserved Shield Maiden. His back was mostly turned towards her so Lana couldn't get a good look of his face.

What she did notice was that he did not seem put off by the Rohirric woman's coolness. Lana stayed back observing them for a moment. Something about the man seemed vaguely familiar and she wondered if she had met him before. Perhaps she had and the memory hadn't surfaced yet. She pressed her lips together thinking.

Unable to come up with an identity she left them discreetly. It appeared that Éowyn had an admirer. This made Lana smile and she didn't want to interrupt. Instead she pivoted around and wondered down the house and out into the main gardens. Only a few patients were out there. She smiled in greeting at those who acknowledged her, but most seemed to want to be alone.

She didn't mind. Striking up a conversation with a stranger wasn't appealing today. Moving down a path she inhaled. The air was cool even though the sun was warm on her face. Opening her eyes she admired the budding flowers. The gardens were well cared for. They reminded Lana of the Victorian gardens in England. They were peaceful. It was one place where the destruction and misery of the battle seemed nonexistent.

Her thoughts swiveled back to her discussion with the hobbits. _The war is not over._ It needed to be, Lana thought darkly. She had seen enough war now. That thought surprised her. _Do I have a change of heart then?_ It was strange to think that after all her protests yesterday and rash actions in the days before that she no longer believed in her life's work. In fact it was troubling.

"No, it can't be that. I'm just tired." She reasoned out loud. Although the thought of seeing battle again made her intestines curl. But more powerful was the urge to stay with her companions—mostly with Legolas. She didn't understand this pervasive yearning. It was like being away from him for any amount of time was unbearable. It didn't make sense. _It has to be my brain. It's still scrambled. _Although she half wondered if it was something else.

Shelving her concerns as nothing more than the lust for news and a worried heart she mulled over her promise to Aragorn. She wouldn't break it. She might be many things—reckless, bold, and occasionally stupid—but she wouldn't break her word.

But for now, she had enough of fighting. Since her mysterious arrival into Middle Earth it had been nothing but training, running, fighting, battles, and survival. And she was _tired_.

A new question blossomed. What would she do once the war was over? The thought that she might not survive did not enter her mind. She took for granted that she would live on. After all, she had already survived her crucible back in her world. And for all she had done and seen, she still felt peripheral at times. Like a child peeking through a window, she felt removed, or at least she did now. Lana shook her head at her muddled thinking. Her brain was going in circles—and so was she apparently.

Glancing up she saw a path that led through a hedge into a circular area with a fountain in the center. The water gurgled soothingly over it marble bowl and into a pool. A few sparrows were bathing in it. Seeing her they took flight. Smirking she watched them circle above her before settling on a blossoming fruit tree. They chirped in annoyance. She observed the riot of life before her. Nature still ran its course despite the wars men waged.

_Or rather, men, elves, dwarves, and hobbits!_

"Life finds a way." She murmured aloud, then smirked slightly.

"Does it?"

Lana whirled. "Legolas!" She moved into his embrace. He accepted her with ease now and rested his cheek on her hair.

She pressed her ear now to his chest listening to the beating of his heart. It was a soothing reminder that he was real; that what she was experiencing was real, and that perhaps she wasn't so removed from life after all.

While she didn't doubt her reality anymore, there were times when her mind still struggled to comprehend all this. Legolas grounded her. And she needed him.

Pulling back she smiled up at him. "I was wondering if I was going to get to see you today."

He brushed back her loose hair. She had been wearing it unbound since braiding it hurt her swollen skull. The free strands seemed to delight the elf, though his eyes were heavy with many thoughts.

"Forgive me for not coming to you sooner. Preparations are being made."

She nodded rubbing the suede of his jerkin absently with her fingertips. "Is there a plan then?"

Legolas didn't meet her eyes, which she found odd. Instead he concentrated on her hair as he threaded his fingers through it. There was a tension in his body. It radiated in palatable waves causing her own muscles to clench.

"Legolas?"

He sighed. _"Goheno nin, Melethril._ My mind his weighted down with many things."

She gave him an understanding smile. "Do you want to talk about it?"

He shook his head. "Nay. I would speak of other things. I do not have long to stay with you, but I would rather spend what time I have speaking on things not of war."

Suppressing her disappointment, Lana nodded and pulled his hand. She guided him to sit down on a bench under a flowering tree.

"What do you want to talk about?"

He sighed, and rubbed his brow. "I care not. Anything other than battles and strategies."

Lana nodded but felt rather strange as she tried to think up of something to say. She was terribly curious about what was going to happen, and Legolas' tension worried her. He had been stressed for days now and she desired to soothe his cares away, if even a little. She believed that voicing his apprehensions was better than bottling them up, but she didn't press him. Instead she stroked his cheek with the back of her hand and drew his gaze to her. His eyes were filled with worry and it compressed her heart.

"You are so tense," she murmured. Feeling suddenly protective she urged, "Come, sit here and I will rub your shoulders."

Allowing Lana to guide him to the grass he sat at her feet and leaned his head back against her knees. Her expert fingers rubbed the ache that had settled into his shoulders. Despite being mostly limited to her left hand she had enough dexterity to encourage the distressed muscles to relax.

"Have I ever told you about the time Aidan and I went deer hunting in the Alps?"

It wasn't a particularly interesting story, but it was amusing in some parts.

"It was a complete disaster. We went with our Uncle," she began.

As she talked she gently worked out the knots in his shoulders and neck. When she finished her first story she went to another. Idly she told him about her parents—giving him their names and occupations. She elaborated on her father's career as an airline pilot and then told him about her mother's academic work. Margret, her mother, was a proud Irish woman and had obtained her PhD in Irish studies—hence Gaelic spoken in their home.

"I thought you said Gaelic was the language of your mother's people?" Legolas intoned thickly. Lana felt more of the tension ease from his shoulders.

She smiled softly. "It was, but during the centuries of English rule it was almost completely wiped out. It was illegal to speak Gaelic. It would be like if Gondor conquered Rohan and then banished Rohirric."

Legolas frowned. "That's terrible."

Lana hummed in agreement. "Yes, but it didn't die off completely—although most of the country speaks English, _er,_ Common. But there are a few pockets of Gaelic speaking counties."

She leaned forward pressing her hands down his arms then back up. "My mother wanted us to know our roots, so she taught us Gaelic, even though many people think it a useless language. But the older we got the less we actually used it."

She fell quiet and concentrated on the massage. Legolas became like clay in her hands as she worked the stiffness from his neck and shoulders. It pleased her to make him happy—and to touch him. There was this peculiar urge to physically touch him when he was near. Her thoughts returned again to how much she missed him when he wasn't around.

"Legolas?"

"Hmm?"

He sounded far away and she bit her lip. "Never mind."

Turning slightly he looked up at her. "What is it?"

She shrugged and smiled. "I'm just happy to see you."

A sizzling warmth entered his gaze and infected the air around her. Gently he took her bandaged hand and kissed it, holding her eyes the entire time.

They sat in companionable silence. Lana continued to knead his muscles. Eventually she could no longer hold back. She had to know. "Tell me," she bid him. "What is happening?"

His eyes drifted closed as her thumbs massaged the base of his head. Tantalizing circles were drawn on his scalp with her fingers and nails creating a pleasurable sensation. It made his thoughts like molasses and he was loath to answer her. Giving into the soothing feeling a moment longer he sighed, a low hum embedded in it.

"Naught but planning for war," he replied at last.

"Men and horses. Tactics and weapons." She filled in poetically

He grunted affirmatively.

"What is the plan then?" She leaned forward, her loose hair fell forward brushing his cheek. "I feel like I'm being left in the dark. Have I not given my promise? I will stay in the citadel."

Tilting his head he touched her chin with his temple. Then he reached up to cup her cheek holding her against him lightly.

"I would not have you worry over such things. Though you try to hide it I know you are still in pain. I would not add to it."

She huffed and leaned back. "It pains me more that I seem to have lost everyone's trust."

Looking up he caught one of her retreating hands. He had nothing to say to that, though he wished he could tell her otherwise. But it was by his request that she be kept in the dark. It was true that he wished her mind ease, but there was a selfish reason too. He dared not speak of it to her. He feared that she might be driven by that mortal madness and somehow seek a way to follow him into the pending battle. He could not risk it.

Besides, he told his guilty conscious, nothing was set in stone yet. Something could change. They still had plans to refine. He would keep silent for now.

Lana sighed and looked down at him ruefully. "I understand." He met her gaze startled. Had she read his mind? "I will have to earn back the trust I've lost," she quelled his voice with a touch. "I cannot read your mind but I can guess your thoughts." She added with a smirk.

He thanked the Valar she did not seem furious. Only sad. Strangely that did more to weaken his resolve than her anger would have. Taking the hand he held he pressed his lips to it.

"You have my trust, but precautions must be taken. You will know soon enough." He said with assurance. "Do not worry over such things now."

Lana wrinkled her nose then rolled her eyes. "Very well. Keep your secrets, elf. I enjoy a challenge."

Her eyes twinkled mischievously and he answered her smile with one of his own. She continued the massage, easing away the rest of his cares.

o0o

Elrohir headed for the one green place in this city of stone, knowing without a doubt that Thranduil's son would be found there. Entering the gardens that abutted the Houses of Healing he searched the path for telltale tracks. While elves hardly left a trail, Elrohir knew what to look for. Beyond that he was an excellent tracker—only surpassed by his twin, and only on bad days. Their skills in hunting and tracking were renowned throughout the lands of Middle Earth.

And Legolas had not bothered to hide his footsteps, faint though they were. Elrohir smirked as he picked out the elven prince's trail. Soon he heard a voice that made him pause. The feminine cadence was unmistakable, but what intrigued him was the foreign accent. Moving with greater care he circled around a hedge and peered through the leaves.

What he saw made his usually impassible face light with surprise. Legolas sat at the feet of a woman before a fountain. Her long fingers were rubbing his neck methodically while she spoke of inconsequential things. She wore the day clothing of a wellborn Gondorian lady yet she was fair, unlike most Gondorians.

Bright golden waves flowed over her shoulders and back, ending just past her shoulder blades. From what he could make of her face, he could tell that she was not of Gondorian blood at all. Speculative now, Elrohir ran through the races of Men he knew but could come up with no one who bore such features and accent. Deciding she must be from some obscure village in Rohan he smirked.

It seemed Thranduil's son was enjoying the delights of female attention at last. Though it surprised him that it was a mortal woman to whom he had taken a fancy to. And if appearances were any indication, she was besotted with him. With a grin, he moved around the hedge and approached the unaware couple.

"You are not as difficult to find as some have led me to believe, Prince," Elrohir said congeniality. "Though it surprises me you would share your solitude with anyone."

Both Legolas and the lady whipped around to stare at him. The lady's eyes were canny and they examined him with interest, Elrohir noted. Legolas' held a gleam of surprise, surely from not being aware of his presence. But then a guarded look entered the prince's gaze that made him curious.

"Elrohir." Legolas greeted with less welcome than usual.

Smiling, he shifted his eyes to the woman. "And who is your charming lady friend, _mellon nín?"_

Legolas was on his feet in a single motion and he held out his hand to the woman. Her right hand was thickly bandaged with splints, Elrohir saw. And as she stood he did not miss her sudden intake of breath. She was injured.

Legolas tucked her good hand into the crook of his arm. "This is the Lady Lana Rey." Glancing down at her his gaze softened. "Lana, allow me to introduce Elrohir, son of Elrond."

Elrohir grinned as she studied him. Her deep blue eyes were like the sea, he observed: dark and just as mysterious. There was something about this woman that he couldn't place, but she was different and it intrigued him.

Stepping up to her, he gently took her injured hand and brought it to his lips. _"Êl síla erin lû e-govaned vîn, Bainiel." A star shines upon the hour of our meeting, Fair Lady._

Her brows lifted further at his forwardness and words, but her lips then curved curiously.

"_Mae govannen. Maer ná govadich netë edhel." Well met. It is good to meet another elf._

Her words though slowly pieced together and spoken with clearly a Silvan accent both delighted and surprised him.

"You speak our tongue! That is well. I would know more of you, my lady, but alas Aragorn calls us to return to council."

Even though he had been focused on the lady, Legolas' growing glower was not lost on Elrohir. Something more was going on, and when the time allowed he intended to find out.

Lana turned then to Legolas, with a look in her eye that troubled Elrohir. "I will see you later?"

Legolas, though seemingly reserved now, met her gaze warmly. "Aye."

Bowing shortly to her Elrohir walked away with Legolas in tow. When they were far enough away he spoke.

"Wherever did you find such a flower in this city of stone, Thranduilion?"

A muscle in Legolas' jaw tensed before he answered. "The tale is long, Elrohir, and I have not the time to tell it."

Smirking under his breath Elrohir let the prince be. It seemed all that soothing massage the lady had given the prince was for naught.

* * *

_Thoughts? _

_Thanks for reading!_


	54. Rage Against the Dying of the Light

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.**

I don't own anything of Tolkien's Middle Earth. I just play there.

Some more angst, but I promise a fluffy chapter next. This chapter was initially part of the previous one, but I expanded it and polished it. (But let me know if you catch typos. Being your own editor isn't the best!) :P

Anyways, enjoy! We are getting close to the end!

* * *

**Chapter 53: Rage Against the Dying of the Light**

The somber atmosphere was oppressive. There were no songs of victory, no cheers of camaraderie. Only a resigned determination hung like a black cloud over the dining room. It was strange, Lana thought as she observed the men in the room. In the fog of her injury and heartache she hadn't really noticed how the air seemed to suck the vitality out of the city. It seemed that she had been in as much of a shock as everyone else.

Now she surfaced from her personal daze to find the world in steeped in dread and determination. There was little mood for conversation and what was spoken was murmured softly and with gravity. It was the dire scene of men preparing for war.

Lana had experienced it many times before. Eyes downcast, gazes distant as memories flashed through the mind; happier times were recalled, and so too was unfinished business. The weight of many hearts seemed to make even the torches dim. She didn't need to be told what was going to happen tomorrow. War, battle, death—it was coming. What she didn't know was how it would come.

She yearned to ask the questions that crowded behind her teeth but she resolutely cleaved her tongue to the roof of her mouth. She dare not break the solemn mien. As the only woman in the room who wasn't serving she felt like an outcast. Many glances were thrown her way by the newcomers. They were looks filled with questioning intrigue.

Earlier Gimli had informed her that the new rough looking men were Aragorn's kin come from the north—the Dúnedain. Curious as ever, Lana had studied them surreptitiously, but more than once she had been caught staring. These men seemed far more perceptive than the Gondorians or Rohirrim.

All were dark haired, much in the same way as the Gondorians. Most seemed to have the same gray eyes as Aragorn, and all sported rough shaven beards. Their clothing was worn making them look like ruffians. Their skin was darkened from what she could only assume were by days spent out in the sun and wilds. In fact that was a good word for them—_wild_. Not in an uncivilized way, but these men seemed uncomfortable in the stone hall and looked about as genial as wolves. Still, as Aragorn's kin Lana trusted that they would not pull a weapon on anyone. She hoped.

Scanning the small hall she looked for the dark-haired elf, Elrohir. To say she had been shocked by him was an understatement. Firstly, she hadn't known that any elves had arrived in the city—and secondly, she had never met a black-haired elf before. She had assumed, quite wrongly, that all elves were of lighter coloring, like Legolas and the Galadhrim.

Meeting him had made her even more intrigued about elves. One thing she had noted right away, aside from his sable locks, were his gray eyes. They were the same gray as Aragorn's except they held that luminous quality that all elves seemed to possess. What made her even more curious was why Legolas had seemed rather hostile towards him. She didn't see him or Elrohir though. Nor did she see Aragorn or any familiar faces.

Where was everyone? Surely if the men were eating then the councils were over for the day? She sighed. Finishing her meal she retreated to the outdoors. She could feel the many curious eyes watching her and she walked with a stiff spine.

The sun had set and the sky was now indigo but turning swiftly towards black. There were more stars tonight. The poisonous clouds from Mordor had receded further. She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes. Around her night settled. Crickets serenaded each other in the shadows. The scent of stone and wet grass pinched her nose while the cold air shocked her lungs. Exhaling Lana meandered onto a path that led wound southwards towards the guest chambers.

The track would eventually split, one leading to her room and the other back towards the infirmary. She smirked slightly. She was getting to know her way around. This pleased her. It gave her some semblance of control—even if it was tenuous. Part of her yearned to walk in the gardens, but they were too far and the night was quickly becoming chilly.

Looking up she saw that the walkway was empty. While it was very dark, the pale architecture still stood out like eldritch specters. She felt trapped in a world of black and white. There were no torches to light her way and everything was reduced to what the stars could reveal. Depth perception became distorted and objects looked two-dimensional. It would be easy to trip so she had to watch her feet. The last thing she need was to twist her ankle or worse—fall flat on her face.

The funk from the dining hall had followed her. She felt restless and agitated. Things were happening—the very city was holding its breath. While she might not be from this world she knew what a city under threat felt like: that eerie sensation of prolonged fight-or-flight that resulted in hypersensitive ears and eyes, but with minds slowly numbed by too much anxiety.

The ax was ready to drop.

Racking a hand through her hair she stopped and stared out at the grass next to the path. She felt impossibly alone. Legolas was still gone in meetings, as were Aragorn and Gimli. Merry and Pippin had each other and even Éowyn seemed to have made a new friend. But Lana felt utterly disconnected.

All day her mind went in circles to the point where nothing made sense anymore. She had turned into a bundle of nerves and emotions and was reacting to every tiny thing. It bothered her. She had finally come to the point of questioning her presence here in Middle Earth.

It was not something she had done since accepting Legolas' love. She had accepted her fate, but now she had no purpose. Journalism appeared to be out of the question. There weren't even printing presses let alone newspapers in this world, so what was the point of anything she could do? _Most people probably can't even read!_

She inhaled through her teeth to curb the sudden rush of emotion. Blinking she tilted her gaze up to the stars.

"God! Why am I even _here?"_

Not only had she been ripped from her world, but even her profession now seemed to be snatched from her. What other talents did she have? Drawing? Singing?! Those were useless—as were her linguistic abilities. Italian and Gaelic weren't exactly in demand around here.

Feeling alternately sorry for herself then annoyed, she wandered through the dewy lawn. All she could do was wait. Wait for news; wait for instruction; wait to be useful... She _abhorred_ waiting. She wanted to be with Legolas and she wanted this war to be over.

All this anticipation for something to happen was wrecking havoc on her equilibrium. With the exception of the single hour with Legolas and her chat with the hobbits, the entire day felt wasted. She longed to _do_ something.

It was clearly no secret that information was being purposely kept from her. She had figured out that much. Legolas worried for her—worried what she might do. While she couldn't blame him it hurt that he kept her purposely uninformed. If they were to be couple then he would have to learn to speak to each other. And she knew she had to work on this as much as he.

Searching the stars for answers that weren't there she felt her heart fly across space and time. As ever, her thoughts flew to her brother. She had spoken to Legolas about him—shared more stories of her youth. It had been good to tell him those things. While it still pained her heart to know that separation was forever, it was cathartic to relive those good memories.

She continued to stare at the heavens, picking out constellations she knew. Her lips arched down a bit. She had noticed this before, but had little time to really ponder how this could be. She had more questions than answers now than when she had arrived in Middle Earth. At this point, it seemed doubtful that she would ever get those questions answered.

"Can you be any more depressing? Fuck." She groused to herself. All day she had been morose, and she couldn't account for it.

She just wanted to _not_ be alone. Again that irrational feeling of missing Legolas washed over her. "Bloody hell. What is _wrong_ with me?"

Distracting herself with humming she tried to empty her mind. At first, it was nothing more than a melody her agitated thoughts concocted but eventually it turned into a song.

_Down by the river by the boats_

_Where everybody goes to be alone_

_Where you won't see any rising sun_

_Down to the river we will run_

_When by the water we drink to the dregs_

_Look at the stones on the riverbed_

_I can tell from your eyes_

_You've never been by the riverside_

_Down by the water the riverbed_

_Somebody calls you somebody says_

_Swim with the current and float away_

_Down by the river everyday_

_Oh my God I see how everything is torn in the river deep_

_And I don't know why I go the way_

_Down by the riverside_

She started to sway to the melody allowing her voice to take on a dreamy-dazed. Losing herself to the music she became oblivious to her surroundings. The last note faded into the crickets' song.

"You sing well."

Startled Lana pivoted sharply towards the intruder. Her cheeks flamed at being caught so lost in the music. Squinting she sighed.

"Ah Elrohir, you scared me!" She huffed partly in exasperation and amusement.

The dark brow wrinkled. "Elrohir? I'm sorry but you have me confused with someone else." His eyes gleamed humor.

Lana cocked her head wondering if he was playing a trick on her. "You're not Elrohir?" The dark-haired elf shook his head. "Then what are you his twin brother or something?" She asked flippantly.

"Actually," another voice that sounded nearly identical said, "He is."

Whipping around again she saw the mirror image of the first elf come walking towards her. He was grinning mischievously. Lana looked over her shoulder just to be sure the first elf was still there. He was grinning as well.

She took a step back from both of them frowning. "Ok…so who are _you_ then?" She turned back to the first elf.

"I am Elladan, my lady," he said sweeping up her uninjured left hand and kissing. "I am his older brother." He tilted his head towards the mirror image.

Elrohir snorted. "Older by only a few minutes. And he has fought to be first in everything ever since. But of meeting you, I have the distinct pleasure of discovering you _first_._"_

Lana looked between the two brothers. She found them utterly fascinating for a variety of reasons. Firstly, the dark hair that flowed like ink over their shoulders was so different from Legolas' own pale platinum. Secondly, they seemed far more roughish than any elf she had ever met. And finally, they were twins.

For a brief moment, she felt a pang for her own twin.

Strangely enough her old anxiety about elves crept up as the two brothers seemed bear down on her. For no logical reason she found herself wanting to put distance between herself and these two gorgeous creatures. They reminded her of panthers.

"Your music was quite enchanting," the first elf said. "Never have I heard a mortal's voice do the things your voice did. Tell me, my lady, do you possess some faerie blood in your veins?" He asked cheekily.

"Careful brother," Elrohir rejoined with a smirk. "This lady has our Mirkwood Prince's favor. I would be prudent in what you say."

Overwhelmed Lana smiled uneasily. "Ah—no, no faerie blood or otherwise. I'm just your average woman."

"Woman yes," Elladan said looking her over carefully.

"Average no." Elrohir added, circling her.

Feeling very much like a hare caught between two foxes, Lana unconsciously brushed her hair back before twisting it around her finger. "Have either of you seen Legolas? I wanted to tell him good night."

The brothers eyed her with twin expressions of curious intrigue. Lana took another step back but tried to seem nonchalant.

"Aye, we saw him earlier," Elrohir said.

Elladan picked up the train of thought. "But where he is now I cannot say."

Absurdly Lana felt like she was Alice in Wonderland talking to Tweedledee and Tweedledum—or perhaps twin Cheshire cats. Mentally shaking herself she opened her mouth to speak, but the twins beat her to it.

"Ah, here he comes now," Elladan observed.

"He seems rather put out, don't you think?" Elrohir asked, his lips curving rakishly.

Lana smiled in relief as Legolas swiftly made it to her side. He took up her good hand and tucked into his arm, effectively shielding her from the brothers.

"Good evening, Prince. We have found your lost _adaneth."_ Elrohir said rocking back on his heels. "You had better keep a closer eye on her." _Mortal-lady._

"She has an impeccable singing voice," Elladan added. "I can see why you find her attractive. I am certain you are not the only one enchanted by her."

Lana's brows shot straight up at that. Legolas tensed next to her and she glanced up at him uncertainly.

"I thank you for your attentiveness to her, Elladan, Elrohir," he nodded to the both respectively. "Aragorn wishes to see you both."

The brothers bowed their heads in synchronized acquiescence. Elrohir then winked at Lana, and Elladan gave her a svelte smile. Both sauntered back towards the hall. Lana watched them with curious eyes.

"Those two are trouble," she remarked.

Legolas' tension ebbed away as Elrond's sons disappeared. "Indeed. Be wary around them. They are known for being overt with women—elven or mortal." He shook his head. "Raised as nobles, yet they seem to prefer to flout their rank."

Lana chuckled. "They had you all up in arms, that's for sure." Legolas glanced sideways down at her. She hugged close to him. "Don't worry—they didn't bother me."

He snorted lightly. "From what I saw, I would beg to differ. But come. I have just enough time to return you to your quarters."

Leading her down the path, he moved with purposeful steps. Lana picked up her skirts so she could keep up.

"You're certainly in a hurry!" She snipped as she stumbled on a raised stoned.

Immediately Legolas looked repentant and slowed his steps. _"Goheno nin._ My mind races and my feet seem to want to keep pace."

She nodded then probed. "Are you all still strategizing then?"

Legolas' lips thinned but he gave her a curt nod. "I fear it will be another late night." He sighed. "Aragorn has had little rest."

Lana frowned. "The same could be said of you," she reminded him.

He gave her a distracted smile but said nothing. They moved into the corridor that led to her room. Legolas' pace decelerated significantly as if he suddenly wanted to drag his feet. Lana didn't complain. Her poor elf seemed uncharacteristically brooding. She could only imagine what was being discussed.

All her pensive ruminating returned as if she was subconsciously picking up on Legolas' thoughts. She wanted answers, but she didn't want to ruin these few moments she had with him. Caution ruled her mind. She didn't dare do anything that might upset him—not after everything that had happened. All she wanted to do was be there for him. And if he needed her companionable silence, then he would have it. She couldn't deny him anything.

Despite their slow steps, they reached her door far sooner than either wished. Turning to face her Legolas touched her cheek and Lana leaned into his hand. These past two days he had been mostly distant, both in thought and in physicality. There were reasons, she knew, but it continued to bother her.

It still frightened her how attached she felt to him. She didn't understand how it this had happened so quickly. Or why. Her ever-rational mind was suddenly finding itself in possession of her heart in the matter of two weeks. And within the last couple of days everything seemed accelerated. It didn't make sense. Where was all her logic? This was not sensible!

Had there been time, she would have asked questions about this as well. Surely there was an explanation for the skyrocketing of her feelings. It wasn't normal. And she wanted to know: was it just her, or did he feel it too? Somehow she was certain he felt the same. She hoped he did.

His other hand stroked her opposite cheek before holding her face. Opening her eyes Lana saw a torrent of emotion rage through Legolas'. Without warning he kissed her.

It was rather a chaste kiss, but she could feel his restraint held by a single, albeit, strong thread. She knew she could easily escalate things, but that it would be wrong to do so. This kiss was not one of fiery passion, but of need. She gave him what comfort she could, covering his hands with hers.

When he pulled away his chest was heaving. His eyes had darkened and she saw the unbridled passion he held in check.

"Legolas…" she whispered and she made to step closer to him but he shook his head. Instead, he placed a kiss on her forehead and murmured a good night. Then without a second glance he turned on his heel and retraced their steps.

Lana stood on her threshold watching him disappear into the shadows. Blinking she snapped out of the daze he had put her in. In an instant her rational mind was back in working order—mostly.

Shaking her head, she growled and mumbled under breath.

"Fucking elves."

o0o

The culmination of hours spent in closeted conference was drawing to a close. Debates had raged on what would be the wisest move. It was the choice between two evils: retreat and hold up, like the city had been doing under the years of Denethor; or, make a stand with arms. Each prospect was bleak.

It was under Denethor's watch that the enemy grew in strength and went mostly unchallenged. The late Steward had seen the Dark Lord's works, and in his fear sought to shore up his strength and close his doors. Years of looking into the Palantir that had been hidden in the citadel had warped his mind. While the Seeing Stones could never show a lie, Sauron was crafty and revealed to the Steward that which would weaken the man's strength and courage.

Up till the end, Gondor had persevered under his rein. But now the beleaguered city walls and its great gate lay broken. The streets lay in ruins and carrion birds picked at the remains on the fields below. Many had died in achieving the victory. The high price meant that the Free Peoples had few left who were able to make a stand.

However, it would only be a matter of time before Sauron came after them. Everyone felt the Dark Lord's mounting fury. It was coming for them. They did have some small hope though. Gandalf reminded them that Sauron did not have his precious Ring. Though by now he was aware it was found.

Sauron could not be certain that they had his trinket in Gondor, but his eyes were turned this way Gandalf told them. And that could be used to their benefit. As usual, the wizard did not council prudence.

"His doubt will be growing, even as we speak here," Gandalf told the assembly. "His Eye is now straining towards us, blind almost to all else that is moving. So we must keep it. Therein lies our hope."

"You would have us walk open-eyed into his arms?" Éomer scoffed.

"It would give Frodo his greatest chance," Aragorn countered. "As Gandalf says, it is the choice between two evils. I for one will finish what I have started," his face was solemn but determined. "Though it may come to a bitter end."

Éomer's face was grim but he nodded.

"Indeed, we must walk open-eyed as you say Éomer into that trap with courage, but with small hope for ourselves. For my lords," Gandalf looked around at those seated. "It may well prove that we ourselves will perish utterly in the black battle far from the living lands,"

Legolas continued to sit stoically next to Gimli and listen with a sinking heart. From the beginning it appeared that this would be the outcome of their counsels but he had clung to a slim hope that there might be another way. But he knew there couldn't be. That did not make this any easier to bear.

All the talk of doom did not give qualm to his warrior's soul, but his heart shrank slightly. It did not want to say farewell to the world—not now that it had found its other half. He wanted to live. There was so much he had yet to do!

While he sat these past two days listening and occasionally offering his own insight or suggestions, his thoughts never strayed far from Lana. At this very moment he yearned to hold her; to bury his face in her hair and inhale that unique smell that was her. He wanted to taste her lips and drink the life that she had infused in him. Hearing Gandalf's words was like an icy knife shoved at the bottom of his spine.

Aragorn spoke up again, "We come now to the very brink, where hope and despair are akin." He looked around the table where they all had gathered.

Halbarad was there with the sons of Elrond. Éomer sat across from him along with the highest-ranking general of Gondor's army. Legolas and Gimli sat on Aragorn's left while Gandalf occupied the head of the table. All the faces that looked to him were grim.

"But nonetheless I do not yet claim to command any man. Let the others choose as they will." He said.

Elrohir lifted his voice, "From the north we came with this purpose and from Elrond our father," he glanced at his twin. "We brought this very counsel. We will not turn back."

Aragorn gave his kin a short nod, his eyes expressing his gratefulness. Éomer too said he would align himself with Aragorn.

"This I know, and it is enough, that as my friend Aragorn succored me and my people, so I will aid him when he calls. I will go."

Though it did not need to be said, Halbarad added his pledge that he and the Dúnedain were with them as well. The Gondorian captain assured them that what remained of Gondor's army would stand with their uncrowned king.

Gimli then added his oath. "Far be it from me to leave when the road darkens. We have traveled this far with you, and so we shall continue to do. I pledged my ax to Frodo, and I will wield it for his sake again."

Legolas nodded in agreement though it felt like a nail through his heart. "We stand with you Aragorn, to whatever end."

He held his friend's gaze. In it he saw the profound gratefulness but also understanding. Neither of them could hope to see their beloveds again.

Talk shifted then to the alignment of regiments, battle tactics and how to approach the Black Gates. Legolas listened with half an ear. But his focus was on Lana once more. He remembered her look of annoyance as he had left her standing at her door.

It had taken all his will to turn from her, but Legolas was a warrior born. He could deny himself when called to do so—but that did not mean it was easy. His body burned for hers. Even now a heat infused just under his skin. Wild thoughts ran through his head, as did a flagrant disregard for convention.

Under the table his hands curled into fists. Containing the emotions that pulsed through his body was a challenge. He caught the intrigued sight of Elrohir. Elrond's son was observing him. Legolas' face was already carefully schooled, but the sons of Elrond were notoriously perceptive. Elrohir lifted a thick black brow slightly. Legolas didn't allow his face to show anything.

The hour was near midnight before they disassembled, but the plan was finalized. They would ride out on the morrow.

Aragorn called Legolas aside for a moment. _"Hannon le, mellon nín,"_ he said with full awareness.

Legolas graciously tipped his head. "There is no need, Estel. I will follow your leadership to whatever end."

Aragorn nodded wearily. "And for that you have all my thanks, though it is not enough." The man ran a hand over his face. The stubble of his beard rasped against his palm.

Legolas knew that the Ranger wished he could offer them both reassurances that things would turn out well. But that was impossible. The elf sympathized. But at least, Legolas had his beloved here. Aragorn would ride off into battle tomorrow without seeing Arwen, or hearing her voice—feeling her touch.

Eyes closing Legolas felt the inexorable pull towards Lana. He had to see her.

"I will go tell Lana of our plans. She has been waiting for news with no small amount fraying patience."

Aragorn's lips quirked, imaging Lana was anything but patient. She was certain to be pacing if not snooping around looking for information. A downward tug on his heart made the man sigh.

"She is surely asleep by now. There is no harm in telling her in the morning."

Legolas heard him but did not agree. Lana would be furious if they left tomorrow without telling her beforehand. He had kept her in the dark long enough. And even if she was asleep, he resolved to sit by her bedside. He _had_ to see her.

"Aye, I shall see."

Aragorn eyed him with speculation but soon the weariness returned to his gaze. They left the hall and made their way to their own rooms. The twin sons of Elrond had waited for Aragorn for they wished to confer a few words in private.

Legolas bid them good night but ignored the gleam of a question in Elrohir's eyes. He did not need to know anything, Legolas thought bitterly. The last thing he desired was the nosey intrusion of the twins in his personal life.

Turning his boots towards the guest wing, a precarious feeling filled him as he thought about Lana—and all that he was going to lose. Thinking of her smile and her deep blue eyes desire took root and refused to be ignored.

A tremor ran through him as he entertained what he desired to do. He rubbed his hands over his face as he turned down the corridor. His heart was pounding in his ears. Propriety warred with want and he oscillated between them.

There would be no second chance. The battle would claim his life, he thought morosely. So he had to take the opportunity while it was presented to him—or so his heart argued. And Legolas was inclined to heed it.

The question now was would he take action?

* * *

_NB: The dialogue in the council room almost directly quoted from the book, _The Return of the King._ Those are Tolkien's words. Those of you who know the books will know that the actual council took place during the day and outside the city in Aragorn's tent. Because I'm blending book with movie verse I'm taking more liberties with scenery. (And attendees since Gimli and Legolas weren't actually present at this meeting in the book.)_

_As for the overwhelming angst, I'm trying to really explore the full gambit of emotions for Lana and Legolas. I'm also trying to prep them for the next phase in their relationship and lay the groundwork for a sequel. (Yes I will be writing a sequel!) So, many of you have asked questions, but you'll just have to be patient. ;) I don't want to spoil the plot._

_The song: _Riverside_ as sung by Agnes Obel. You can YouTube it if you want to hear the full song._

_Extra elfie points to those of you who can tell me where this chapter's title is from. _

_As always, thanks for reading! _


	55. When Faced With Our Deaths

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.**

I don't own anything of Tolkien's Middle Earth. I just play there.

Note: The rating for this chapter is elevated to 18+, or as we say in the US, R-rated.

* * *

**Chapter 54: When Faced With Our Deaths**

Legolas felt his heart pounding. The reality of what was going to happen tomorrow sank further into his soul. As a consequence, he began to think about his life: all the meetings; the comings and goings; his childhood; learning to hunt and to ride—to shoot. He recalled when his father smiled more and the laugh of his mother.

He remembered all the loss: the death of friends; his mother's death; the once mighty Greenwood sickening into Mirkwood; his father's warmth fading with the dying forest.

Everything...gone…

And he thought about all the pending loss. The price that must be paid, but it could very well claim his life. And surprisingly it frightened him. He had never feared death. It was alien to his race, but warriors such as he knew it better than most. Yet now that he had dreams for the future he dreaded the oncoming fight.

The diversion…it was madness. Unless Frodo made it to Mount Doom then their mission would fail. And even if he made it their lives were forfeit. The arrival of the sons of Elrond and the Dúnedain were not enough to swell their army to a formidable size. The Prince of Dol Amroth would not arrive in time for their departure in the morn.

After all they had been through, all the fighting, against all the odds—it had come to this. It was a crucial but suicidal mission.

Legolas was not ready…_Not yet._

He knew it was late. Lana was sure to be asleep by now; she was still healing after all. And she was not elvish. It would take time for her wounds to heal Aragorn reminded him. In his mind, Legolas saw again how Elrond's sons had watched their exchange with interest.

Instinctively his protective nature rose. The twins were surely no threat to Lana. Yet a feeling Legolas could not ignore overrode his common sense. She was _his_—not theirs. The need to keep her away from the brothers was confounding. And so too were his possessive feelings, but he had little patience these days. It was unbefitting, but there it was.

And here he was now.

Legolas' heart pounded as he arrived at her door. Hesitating he rested his hand on the handle. _What are you doing Legolas?_ His head came forward and leaned against the wood of the door. While his conscience sent up warnings, his heart urged him on. It was several long moments before he did anything at all.

At last he turned the handle and the door opened nearly soundlessly. Taking a breath he stepped into her chambers. All was still as he shut the door with a soft click. Turning, his eyes widened at the sight of the empty bed. He looked about in panic until he saw the open balcony doors.

He should have known, he chided himself. Cool air filled the room, but his elvish blood hardly noted the drop in temperature. The fire in the hearth burned low and emitted little light. Instead the room was filled with intermittent shadows and silver starlight.

Moving towards the open doors he caught a glimpse of a figure dressed in white. It was Lana. She leaned against the railing dressed in a long flowing robe with black trim. Silver stars decorated the hem mimicking the celestial light above. Her hair was free flowing down her back, the soft waves painted with silver. When the air moved it caused the strands to shift mimicking water.

He stopped, admiring her in the moonlight. A soft breeze whispered around her reaching towards him. Inhaling he tensed, scenting a salty tang in the wind. As of yet he had been able to keep the sea at bay in his mind, but with this faint fragrance the longing suddenly overwhelmed him.

He stood rooted, eyes closed. When at last he opened his eyes he saw that she was looking at him. Thoughts of the sea drifted away as he focused again on the woman before him. The only thing that mattered was _her_.

She could take away his pain; his fear…

Moving silently forward, he drank in the sight of her. He stepped onto the balcony.

"What are you doing here?" She asked softly. Her delicate brows drew together as if she couldn't believe he was here. "I was not expecting you to come back."

Legolas simply reached out and took her hands in his. He did not meet her eyes. Concentrating on her hands he allowed her presence to sooth the chaos in his soul.

"What is it?" Lana prompted, tilting her head so as to catch his eyes.

He sighed and stroked her hair, indulging in his favorite habit. Coming to a decision he said, "We ride for Mordor tomorrow."

Lana stilled in his arms. Her eyes sought his trying to see if there was some jest in his words. But there was none. It was several moments before she found her voice.

"Why?"

That simple unaffected question made his heart clench. Why indeed!

"Ten thousand orcs stand between Frodo and Mount Doom. We are to provide a diversion…turn Sauron's eye away from his land."

Lana's good hand gripped his arm tightly. "But…that's, that's crazy! Suicide!"

Legolas didn't meet her gaze. _"Istan,"_ he said after a moment.

Lana shook her head. "Is this the plan you all have been concocting these last two days? All those hours and you couldn't come up with anything better? No. I won't allow it!" She said pulling away she began to pace. "There has to be another way."

Legolas sighed. "There is no other way, _Melethril."_

"There is _always_ another way," Lana told him forcefully. "We just have to think outside the box." With celerity she continued to pace until Legolas stepped in front of her.

"We cannot lose hope," he told her straining for calm, though his heart was beating a heavy tattoo in his chest.

Lana frowned at the way his voice seemed to shake. "What hope is there, Legolas? This plan will get you all killed."

He bowed his head seeking the right words. Then looked at her. "I go to give Middle Earth a fighting chance — to give _you_ a chance." His gaze bore deeply into her eyes.

She snorted. "A chance for what? To live a life without you?" She moved closer to him and drew his face to hers. "That is no life at all. I am giving up everything to stay here with _you_. I have even stopped thinking about finding away home—I am yours."

Legolas gathered her in and kissed her head._"Istan,"_ he said trembling. "But if the battle goes ill then…then I want you to find a way home, _meleth nín,"_

"No."

"Aye. Find a way back." He drew away so he could see her face. "I would know no peace if the enemy had you." He whispered fiercely.

Tears gathered in Lana's eyes. "Oh Legolas," she said not knowing how to articulate her many feelings. For once words failed her.

She drew close and kissed him fiercely. He returned the kiss with the same fervor. The heart beneath his chest seemed about to burst from all the strain he felt. His darkest fears loomed over him and he wanted to do nothing more than drown in the essence of the woman before him. In equal measure, he felt a flippant disregard for all customs and mores of his people.

He clung to her unwilling to let her go. There was something he needed.

When they finally broke apart he exhaled unsteadily. "I do not wish…" he stopped himself, inhaling.

"You do not wish?" She prompted, not wholly aware of the battle raging on inside of him.

_"Meleth nín, aníron…"_ Looking down and then at last meeting her gaze he said, _"Aníron le." My love, I desire…I desire you._

Lana blinked unsure of what he was saying exactly.

"I do not wish to go to my death without…_knowing_ you…fully." His eyes were intense and they were a shade darker than normal.

Lana blinked as she realized what he meant. "But…your people…your customs…if we…"

_"Istan, dan…ú-peditham i gwaedh…_Boen _le."_ _I know but…if we do not speak the vow…I _need_ you._

Lana's eyes widened further. Of all the things he could have said, she would have never expected this. Staring hard into his eyes she saw in them all the fears of the pending battle; the fears of all the things he had yet to experience in life and might never get to. No matter his age, Legolas still had so much life to live.

She trembled. What he was asking for was no mere thing, and while she typically wouldn't hesitate, she understood the gravity of his request. It was not simple. Her mind raced as did her heart. She looked into his earnest gaze and saw his desire—the elemental need. She saw too his deep love for her. And she saw his fear. This, more than anything else, swayed her.

And she could not deny him. Nor she did wish to. In a low voice, she said,_ "Mai gwannitham…" If we are going to die…_ She brushed her fingers over the braid that ran above his ear. "Then let us live before the end."

His eyes darkened further even as his heart fluttered. Intending to gather her up, he was stilled by her arresting smile. She led him back into her chamber and she had him sit on one of the plush chairs. Confused, he watched her as she ran her hands ran over his shoulders and moved behind him.

Not sure what she was about, his heart skipped as her fingers touch his hair. Her dexterous fingers smoothed over his head, her nails lightly grazing his scalp. Gradually his eyes closed as she worked his braids loose. The feeling of her fingers in his hair was exquisite. Did he have this same affect on her? If so, he did not know how she did not melt completely. She gently massaged his scalp coaxing his head to hang forward so she could rub the stiff cords of his neck and shoulders.

He sighed contentedly. But then she stopped, her left hand trailing down his shoulder and then his arm until she stood before him. He looked up at her, silhouetted by the open balcony doors. Before he could move she knelt down before him. He saw that she had removed the splint from her fingers but he said nothing. Keenly he watched as she unlaced his boots and then slipped them off his feet—first one, then the other.

Her eyes lifted to his. They were so dark to seem almost indigo in the night. Her lips curved softly.

Who knew such a simple act as removing boots could be so evocative? Sitting up on her knees, she ran her hands along his hard thighs. Unable to stand even a small distance between them, Legolas reached for her, drawing her close. His hands tangled in her hair before gripping her shoulders and he kissed her deeply.

As she started to pull away he followed until he was standing once more. Lana smiled in such a way that his blood began chasing itself through his veins. She laid her fingers on his belt and began to loosen it. Unable to keep his hands off of her, he ran them down the sides of her body, moving tentatively at first and then with increasing boldness. The heat of her skin had warmed the silk and it teased his sensitive fingertips.

He marveled at the elegant curves of her body so very different from his own. She felt soft yet firm. He splayed his fingers over the front of the robe. Lana lifted a teasing brow at him as if to say, _Is that the best you can do?_

Grinning mischievously she tossed his belt away, then moved to his tunics. Like those many nights ago in Rohan she nimbly removed him of each one. His nostrils flared as her fingers grazed lightly over the skin of his chest and abdomen. The simple touch was exquisite. No one had ever touched him in this way, and he couldn't imagine anyone else having the right.

It appeared that Lana was not unaffected and he smirked. She was just enamored with him as he with her. He took a step closer and gave her a pointed look before hooking his fingers on the belt of her robe. But then he hesitated.

Lana arched an elegant brow daring him with her eyes, waiting to see what he would do. Seeing the challenge prompted him to action. Emboldened once more he tugged on the sash and the simple knot fell apart.

Smiling Lana stepped backward, the sash pulling away with a muted hiss. Legolas watched in keen appreciation as she moved back several steps into a pool of moonlight. The robe gaped just enough for his keen eyes to see a glimmer of flesh.

"Well? Are you going to claim your prize, my prince?" She asked in a low husky voice that stoked the mounting fire in his body.

Lips curving, he stepped up to her confidently, but instead of removing the robe he cupped her face and pressed a relatively chaste kiss on her lips.

"Aye, _meleth nín,_ I shall claim you."

Cupping her shoulders first he ran his hands down her back molding her body to his. The slight gap in her robe allowed for their flesh to meet through the narrow chasm. The feel of this tiny bit of skin against his own made Legolas moan deeply into her mouth. The kiss was no longer chaste but filled with pulsating eagerness.

He pulled back hastily, gasping. Resting his forehead on hers, he took a moment.

"Are you sure you wish to do this?" She asked him, stroking his hair that had fallen forward.

She was giving him the chance to back out. He could hear her heart beating like his; could sense her desire, but she was willing to step back should he wish it. But he didn't wish it. There was no going back for him. Not now.

_Not ever._

"You are the one my heart has chosen—you are the only one I will ever give my love to…and you are the one I shall bind with when this is over." He murmured interspersing the words with tender kisses on her face and neck.

The scent and taste of her was almost too much to bear, but there was an undercurrent of nervousness as he fingered the collar of her robe. His breathing became heavy as he traced the column of her neck down to the gentle slope of her shoulder. Ever so slowly he pushed the robe off her right shoulder.

It gleamed like marble in the moonlight and he stared at it intently. Then he ran the back of his fingers over her skin, eliciting a shiver from her. He met her eyes and held them as his hand began to delve lower underneath the silk.

His fingers traced over her collarbone before slowly, hesitantly gliding over the swell of her breast. Lana's own breathing grew heavier and her eyes became unfocused. Legolas continued to watch her face as his fingers moved further still; he paused touching her nipple, fascinated by the feel of the exceptionally soft skin. It responded to his touch, stiffening into a peak under his fingertips. Fascinating too was to see Lana's eyes flutter closed as she tilted her head back in apparent pleasure. Her lips parted with a sigh.

After a long moment, he ventured on, tracing her side. He felt the bandage that wrapped around her middle—the arrow wound was still healing. Abruptly he paused unsure if he _should_ pursue his heart's desire. Caught between his carnal needs and his noble character he froze.

Lana was not fully healed and he did not wish to take advantage of her or harm her. But she made the decision for him. Guiding his hand to the bandage's tail, she had him pull it loose. Slowly he unwound the bandage, though her body still mostly hidden by the alluring robe. When he came to the end he dropped the length of fabric.

Moving both hands back up to her face, he held it gently between his hands, kissing her softly before drawing away. He snaked his fingers under the robe again and slowly pushed it off her left shoulder. The silky fabric fell away to pool at her feet.

She stood before him nude and bathed in moonlight.

Legolas inhaled sharply his eyes lingering over every aspect of her body. The swell of her breasts gave way to a slim waist and slender hips—all perfectly proportioned in his mind. With his eyes, he followed the intricate pattern of the tattoo that ran down her right shoulder to curl around her left hip. Whorls, flowers, and even animals were bound up in a dynamic image that seemed to be painted on. Continuing his perusal he felt his body come alive at the sight of hers. The neatly haired arrow at the apex of her thighs drew his attention, and his mouth went dry as he continued his study.

When Lana thought he would do nothing more than look he moved—circling her slowly as if she was a work of art. He took his time about it, not touching her, but his gaze was tactile enough.

Lana forced herself to remain still and quiet—to allow him to take this at a pace he desired. But she felt rather exposed standing there under his scrutiny. When he came to stand in front of her once more he finally returned his eyes to hers.

_"Bainin le,"_ he breathed holding her gaze and moving in closer but still not touching. "_Sui mallos edlothia meril. Hebich hwest nín." _

_You are beautiful. Like a blooming golden rose. You steal my breath._

His words were hot on her skin and a shiver ran down her spine. He reached for her cheek touching it with a single finger as if afraid to touch her further. Lana tilted her face towards his hand.

"You praise me too highly," she smiled.

He chuckled. "Nay. I speak only the truth."

"You always have," she murmured taking his hand and kissing it.

Slowly Legolas rested his palms on her shoulders but didn't proceed any further. That tide of nervousness rose up like a crest on a wave within him. Perceiving this, Lana took his hands and led him towards the bed.

"Come, we have many long hours to get to _know_ each other." She said with a smile that melted his heart and any uncertainties he had.

Reaching the bed she stopped and turned towards him. She guided his hands to her hips and leaned forward pressing against him so their bodies touched fully.

Legolas inhaled sharply, his fingers gripping her hips tightly before cautiously tracing their curve backwards and down. Instinctively Lana rolled her hips forward, feeling his arousal prominently through the durable leggings he wore. She wove her arms around his neck, fingering his loose hair. Then she pressed her lips to his collarbone. She felt his grip on her increase even as his chest rose and fell at a quickening rate.

With her hands she drove him to distraction: one stroked his finely tipped ear while the other was waltzing casually downwards. Her lips were on his throat now. Her tongue touched him, tasted his skin. Then she fingered the top of his leggings loosening them. Legolas shuddered at the cacophony of sensations that rippled through him.

Never before had he felt this way. His body was on fire and his heart galloped like a horse with wings. But feeling his leggings slacken, he gripped her wrist. The nervousness returned again, and he held her hand indecisively, although his body yearned to let her go.

_"Estel nin,"_ she whispered into his ear, causing his body to quiver. _Trust me._

Tilting his face towards hers, he relaxed his hold.

Her other hand snaked down and he felt her thumbs hook under the hem. She pushed the leggings down while her lips drank from his own. Soon he stepped out of his last piece of clothing and Lana withdrew after a moment.

This time, it was her turn to peruse him with her eyes. Feeling inexplicably shy, he couldn't hold her gaze. He startled when he felt her hand graze his skin, but strangely enough her trailing fingers let him know where she was and it gave him comfort. And fanned his desire.

"Damn," she whispered in awe, causing him to look up in surprise. Her lips quirked in that way that always made him smile. "You think _I'm_ beautiful…" she shook her head admiring him. "I believe I got the better end of that bargain."

Legolas threw back his head and laughed. All his tension ebbed away as her eyes sparkled up at him. His chest still vibrating with amusement he picked her up and laid her on the bed feeling more confident. He stretched out beside her looking her over again, committing to memory every dip, curve, and hollow of her body. Silently he blessed the Valar for the gift this woman was in his life.

Then he began to explore with his hands.

He began with her face, lightly tracing her expressive brows and the line of her nose. Her lips lightly pursed into a ghost of a kiss as he touched them. His lips parted as his breathing quickened.

Further down, he followed the pulsing vein in her neck. It beat rapidly beneath her skin. Swallowing he ran his fingers over her collarbones and down the valley on her chest. Then he touched her breast: first the right, then the left. Her skin was so soft there. He caressed her breasts repeatedly, and decided that this would become a habit too—and she seemed to like it as much as he. He watched as her nipples hardened into stiff peaks and suddenly a bold idea came into his head.

Bending over her, he caught one of her nipples between his lips. Lana gasped and then moaned deep in her throat, her hand clenching in his hair.

_"Mmhm…_Legolas," she whispered disjointedly.

Delighted that he had pleased her he moved on to the other breast, showering it with the same amount of affection. Lana arched under him.

"Do you like that, _Melethril?"_ He asked with newfound male smugness.

"Oh yeah…" was her thin breathy reply.

He continued to kiss her body moving further and further down. He licked the designs inked into her skin half wondering if they would taste of their vibrant colors. With his right hand, he gently petted the coarse hair that covered her femininity. Lana shifted and exhaled, bending one knee. Legolas kissed the delicate skin at the corner where her hip met her thigh.

All too soon Lana coaxed him back up. To his surprise, she deftly switched their positions. She knelt over him, her hair falling forward and shielding them from the world. Her lips touched his for a moment before moving to his neck. He inhaled tightly as he felt her tongue on his ear and gripped her body forcefully.

"Is this to your liking, my lord?" She whispered in amusement, echoing his earlier question.

Legolas, still gasping, could only nod.

"Good. It's only going to get better."

For all his exploration of her body, Lana proved that she was consummate in her skills as a lover. Her mouth created a torturous line of fire from his ears down his chest, and further still. When her hands touched him intimately he jolted, his eyes widening at the unexpected but pleasurable contact.

"Relax," she murmured, kissing the corner of his mouth while her fingers wrapped firmly around him. "I promise you will like this,"

Slowly closing his eyes Legolas gave himself to the overwhelming sensations. He moaned and shifted as her hands grasped him and ran along his length. His eyes shot open when her mouth suddenly closed around him. A whole new range of sensations spiraled through his body. He buried his fingers in her hair, forgetting about the tender spot at the back of her head.

_"Aiya!"_ He threw his head back. "Lana…_Meleth nín,"_ he panted mindlessly urging her on while trying to keep a hold on his rapidly fraying senses.

She drew away before he was ready and he gasped from the shock of it. Pulsating and throbbing almost painfully, he stared at her in desperation. She sidled up to him, running a finger down the centerline of his chest.

Unable to control himself he moved over her, out of his senses and nearly uncomprehending of anything other than the woman underneath him. She chuckled low in her throat and he eyed her suspiciously. Her lips touched his chin then she spoke.

"Come to me, my Legolas, my love," she urged him, spreading her legs. "I will show you the way," she whispered, guiding him down to where the dark arrow between her thighs pointed.

The first touch of her moist flesh on his was beyond words. As he entered her he inhaled sharply, his mind going blank of everything but mindless praise. Pressing further his eyes fell closed as he could handle nothing more than the sensation of her around him.

_"Ai Elbereth!"_ He exclaimed as he fully sheathed himself.

"Uh-huh," she breathed, also lost in the feeling.

For a moment neither of them moved, then Lana undulated her hips, which sent a fiery feeling of pure delight coursing through them both. Instinctively now Legolas moved, drawing out then forging back into her alluring warmth. Her muscles were tight around him. His breathing grew heavier with each thrust. The feeling was indescribable. After several slow strokes, he established a rhythm.

Lana arched her hips provocatively, which further enticed him. Her fingers raked down his ribs then clenched tightly at his backside. She panted with him, gasping and moaning.

It grew between them—a feeling unlike anything he had ever known. It was like the sun rising: a hot glow of some new dawning. A resolute feeling of oneness and single-minded determination filled them both. Legolas buried himself faster into her depths, murmuring to her so many words of love and wonder. He was hardly aware of what he was saying or that he spoke only in his native tongue.

Suddenly he threw his head back, crying out her name mingled with that of the Star-Kindler, Elbereth. Then he collapsed, just barely catching himself before he crushed her.

"Oh Lana…" he gasped and trembled violently with the aftermath. "That was…_aiya…"_

Lana smiled stroking his hair slowly. "Yes?"

"I have not the words to describe it…" he panted into her neck, but with a smile. His heart was racing and the fiery feeling was slowly ebbing into a perfect afterglow.

"Was it good then?" She murmured, kissing his temple fondly.

Lifting his head he stared into her eyes. "It was…_better_ than good…it was…"

She laughed softly. "Yeah…it was…" Her fingers brushed away the hair that fell over his eyes.

He kissed her intensely and thoroughly, striving to connect with her above and below. Her heart beat in time with his, and it made him smile. Feeling more in control of himself Legolas rolled onto his side and gathered her to him. He slipped out of her warmth, and not liking the loss he kissed her deeply in compensation. Then he stroked her hair and stared intently into her eyes.

"You have given me such a gift, _Melethril,"_ he whispered.

"And you have given me the same, my Aureos." Her eyes gleamed like blue gems he thought.

He grinned brightly, feeling utterly besotted with Lana. He nuzzled her, his lips teasing hers. As Legolas recovered they talked idly and touched each other constantly. A feeling of rightness permeated the air around them and they both forgot the pending doom that lingered in the east. Some time later Legolas spoke.

"I did not think…" He began but then stopped.

Lana glanced up at him, her fingers smoothing the skin on his chest. "You did not think…what?"

Legolas felt the tips of his ears go red. "I did not think that, well…I had thought…" he sighed and frowned a bit. He studied her face intently. "Never mind. You will laugh."

Intrigued Lana propped herself up. "No, I won't." She combed back his loose hair. "I promise." Bending down she kissed the tip of his nose.

Legolas stared at her, a hunger for her building once more. Her hair was wild about her shoulders and there was an indolent warmth in her eyes. His gaze traveled down to her breasts and lingered there as temptation beckoned. Legolas swallowed and returned his gaze to her intrigued eyes.

Then he grimaced. "Well, I didn't realize that it was done, ah—face-to-face." Lana blinked at him. "I thought it was done…from behind…like deer or horses."

Lana was having a mighty time of it trying _not_ to laugh but it burst out despite her best efforts. Legolas pouted.

"You _are_ laughing at me." Lana shook her head. "Aye, you are."

"Oh Legolas," she said trying to catch her breath. The humor made her side ache but she couldn't help herself. Bending over him she nuzzled his face. "You are too adorable."

He narrowed his eyes at her. Still grinning she kissed him, but he refused to respond.

"I'm not laughing at you, I promise. You just shocked me." He lifted an imperious brow at her. Leaning down again she murmured over his lips. "You're not completely wrong, you know. It _can_ be done that way."

He stared at her trying to see if she was jesting or not. Chuckling, Lana pulled back and settled against his side again. She ran her fingers down his chest and abdomen before retracing the line back up.

"There is much you have yet to learn about the art of love." She said philosophically, and she looked up through her lashes at him.

His eyes darkened and he rolled over her eager for more lessons. They made love again. This time, Lana encouraged him to take it slow so as to stretch out the bliss. Legolas found it a pleasurable challenge, even as Lana teased him about his impatience. They laughed and he kissed her as he ran a hand down her ribs to her backside. He squeezed the flesh there making her jump and squeak with indignation and laughter.

Legolas had no idea how satisfying or deeply fulfilling lovemaking could be. He had heard the tales, but they failed to do the act justice. With each new touch and each new sigh and murmur, it was like he discovered more about Lana. He didn't understand how this could be, but it excited him. And it made him greedy. He wanted to know her completely—inside and out. He wanted to explore the hidden spaces in her soul and lay claim to her fully.

When they rested in the delicious afterglow once more, his fingers idly traced her left side. Leaning on an elbow he peered down at her tattoos. Lana watched him with lazy eyes as he traced the whimsical designs.

"Why did you mark yourself in this way?" He asked finally. There was no accusation in his tone. Merely curiosity.

Her lips curved slightly then she shrugged casually. "I wanted to. I think tattoos are beautiful—if they are done right." She added in a tone the suggested she had seen some really bad ones.

Legolas shifted his gaze back to study the images that curved over her left hip. He furrowed his brow slightly and tilted his head. His unbound hair glided over his shoulder and down his chest. Lana found she liked him without the braids. It gave him a rakish look that appealed to her mischievous side.

"Do they have meaning? I see a scrolling text here but I understand not the words."

Lana nodded. "Yes. The words are in Latin, and they say _omnis non moriar_, which means _not all of me shall die_. It's from a very old text—an ode—by an ancient poet named Horace. It's only a small excerpt from his poem _More Lasting Than Bronze."_

She grinned cheekily then. "Horace thought very highly of himself and said that he would live forever through his art. And in a way he has. But I always found this particular line compelling, if not prophetic. Death is just a transitory thing, I think. The spirit lives on."

Legolas lifted a brow. He wasn't too sure of what to make her words or the tattoo. He preferred not thinking about Lana's mortality. But here she had a reminder of it permanently inked into her skin. It caused a small moue to pull his lips down. Leaving his suppositions he shifted his focus to what looked liked furled banners.

"And these? They look like standards, although I cannot be certain. They appear to be bound up."

She nodded. "Those are flags that represent my heritage. The one on the right is the American flag, and the other is an old Irish flag. Red, white, blue, and stars for the USA, and green and gold with a harp for Ireland."

He nodded, though those places and names were meaningless to him. He had only Lana's words to paint a picture of what her world was like. But he enjoyed her stories and would never tire of listening to them.

"And what does S-P-Q-R mean?"

"That's a Latin acronym for _Senatus Populusque Romanus_—the Senate and People of Rome. That with the laurel wreath is a symbol of Rome. It's a nod to my father's heritage."

Legolas traced the encircling garland in repetitive rounds with a thoughtful expression. Lana wondered where his thoughts went but kept silent. She was more intrigued by what he would say on his own without her prompting. After all, this night was about him more than her. Her lips curved. _I deflowered an elf._

She had never slept with a virgin before but found his untried enthusiasm compelling. He was eager for her and she quite enjoyed witnessing his first time. It was a true honor, and her love for him grew as did her smile.

Legolas was oblivious to her amusement as he focused on the next image. His fingers lightly drifted upwards to touch it. "And what of these creatures? They are...cats?"

Her expression warmed. She was pleased that he found her tattoos of interest and not repulsive. "Those are tigers, and they are coming out of tiger lilies. The design is based on a style of art known as art nouveau."

Legolas furrowed his brow. "I have never heard of such animals. What are they?"

This caused Lana to lift a brow, "They are very big cats—related to lions, but bigger. You don't have tigers here in Middle Earth?"

Legolas shrugged. "Not that I know of."

She frowned slightly. "That's a shame then. They are majestic creatures. You already know that I like cats. I have a particular fondness for tigers. They are strong, powerful, frightening even, but also kingly. And I was born the year of the Fire Tiger, so I have that going for me too."

He looked up at her intrigued. "Year of the Fire Tiger?"

She nodded and urging him to lie down next to her as she explained the Chinese zodiac. Naturally this led to discussing the Western zodiac. Legolas listened though his right brow stayed lifted throughout the explanation. Apparently elves did not have zodiacs, nor did they believe that one's personality and success could be determined by the stars.

"They are Elbereth's gift to the Children of Ilúvatar, and a warning to the enemy." It was his turn to enlighten and this led to a long tale about the creation of the world.

Lana listened attentively. As always she was intensely curious about the Valar and she was keen to hear Middle Earth's creation myth. She found it fascinating and asked many questions.

Of course throughout the discussion they continued to touch each other. Fingers drifted over skin, exploring, caressing, gripping and cradling. It was as much a tactile conversation as a verbal one.

It wasn't long before the petting lead to kissing, and kissing to more intimate stroking. Legolas, Lana discovered, had far more stamina than any of the men she had ever been with: a definite plus for her who had always had a healthy sexual appetite. As he grew more confident he paid more attention to her small signals of pleasure. And he repeated those—over and over. It was an intense experience for both of them.

It was on their fourth time that Lana cried out shocking Legolas into immobility. He froze fearing he hurt her.

"No," she said languorously at his concerned question. "You didn't…" She purred.

Legolas eyed her speculatively noting how she looked very relaxed, and almost…well, delirious, for lack of a better word. He probed her further and she explained that she had an orgasm; much like he had been experiencing. It was her turn to blush. Amused he traced the line of her cheekbone.

"It doesn't happen every time?" He asked curiously, now running his finger along her hairline.

Her embarrassment faded away as she spoke. "It can, but only if the man is a _really good_ lover…and if he's exceptional," and here she leveled a challenge at him. "He can get his lady to experience several in a row."

Legolas lifted his brows at this. "And you do not need to rest afterward?" He asked confused. When he released he certainly needed time to recover. But Lana shook her head.

"We women are lucky—we can have multiple orgasms in a row and still keep going." Her lips curved mischievously.

A determined light came into Legolas' face them. "Tell me what to do,"

Lana lifted a brow seeing the resolute gleam in his eyes. _I think he will kill me_…but she smiled and proceeded to teach him her preferences. Although he had been doing quite well beforehand, now…she felt her body quiver and spasm so quickly and so frequently that she was certain she would die from the onslaught of pleasure. She finally understood what the French meant by _petite mort._

By the end, Lana had orgasmed five times, and with the last one she arched up at the same moment as Legolas felt his own release.

The intoxicating aftermath far outweighed the annoying pain from her injuries to the point where she didn't even feel them anymore. Instead, she floated away on a cloud into a sunset of a million colors. She felt like she was drowning in the pure essence of life. In fact, she thought she witnessed the sacred spark that breathed inanimate forms into existence.

As for Legolas, he was speechless. He still had no words to describe how he felt, nor did know until now how glorious it would feel to have his lover reach that celestial pinnacle with him. The feeling of her clenching around him so tightly only magnified his own release.

_Valar!_ He thought as he panted, holding Lana to him. Each time he touched her, held her, he felt the need to voice the deepest desire of his heart. He wanted her bound to him. Now. For all time. Yet he knew that this was not the time for that. Already he had broken so many taboos of his people, but that one he could not do.

But it was so hard! His soul was straining towards hers. He could see it when he closed his eyes. Lana's spirit was like an azure wave tinged in golden yellow. It sparked and glowed like the blue heart of a flame. Her spirit shimmered and danced before his, tantalizing him. He wished to drown himself in her essence. Certainly he could become drunk off her kisses alone!

As the night wore on they dozed intermittently, and when awake they continued their conversations. They spoke of all manner of things, from the inconsequential to the profound, to the future. However, any mention of the future—the "Great Unknown," as Lana termed it—made her cringe and cling to him desperately.

"I do not wish to think of it," she had said at one point.

Legolas lifted a brow and studied her face. It was set in firm lines that told him she was holding back unwanted thoughts.

"Is it so disagreeable to you?" He probed playfully.

She exhaled and turned her face into the crook of his shoulder. "I don't want to think of what could happen tomorrow." Her fingers passed over his chest leaving a small trail of fire in their wake. Legolas fought the primal urge to claim her once more but instead listened.

"I just want to savor tonight…_this_ moment." She whispered lifting her head and meeting his eyes seriously.

Legolas captured her wandering hand and brought it up to his lips. Then he stroked her hair trying to instill peace into her worried heart.

"All will not be lost." He said firmly for both of them. He kissed her brow. "I cannot leave you, so I will not."

Lana peered up at him. Her eyes were filled with uncertainty. "But so many things can happen in battle, Legolas. You know this. I know it."

Guiding her lips to his he kissed her possessively, infusing the touch with all his strength and conviction.

"Aye. But I will come back for you. I promise."

He held her gaze unwaveringly. It was foolish of him to promise such a thing. But right now he believed in his heart that all would be well. The dread he had felt earlier in the night was gone. It was replaced with calm conviction and determination. No matter the outcome of the pending battle, he _would_ come back for her.

He could not allow the Enemy to find her. Brashly he thought that if it all came to an end, he would find a way to take her across the sea—to Valinor. He didn't care that mortals were forbidden there. He would find a way.

Speaking now with his touch he soothed her into sleep. He was determined to stay awake that night, to savor each moment with her, but his body betrayed him. It was still glowing in the effervescence cloud that Lana brought him to. Feeling peaceful for the first time in weeks, he allowed himself to slip into elven dreams.

* * *

_I will point out that I got the horse breeding reference was from Diana Gabaldon's _Outlander._ I think she writes the best, most tasteful sex scenes. So I tip my hat to her._

_Thank you all for your reviews and support! _

_And as always, thanks for reading. _


	56. Forth and Fear No Darkness

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.**

I don't own anything of Tolkien's Middle Earth. I just play there.

* * *

**Chapter 55: Forth and Fear No Darkness**

It was barely dawn when Legolas felt himself jolt awake. A movement next to him made him to turn his head. Lana lay stretched out beside him. Her hair spread around her like a halo. It appeared to shimmer as if spun from gold in the faint light of dawn. She exhaled deeply and turned her face toward his. Her eyes were still closed in repose. Peace lingered in her countenance.

Legolas didn't move but sipped in the sight of her, savoring her image like a fine wine. Memories of the night before flowed as honey in his mind. Affection rich and heady coursed through his veins, warming his heart with a new glow. Was it possible that he loved her more now than before? He hadn't thought such a thing possible, but there it was.

Lips curving into a blissful smile he moved his hand so his fingers could touch her jaw. To him, she was achingly beautiful, and he would challenge anyone who said otherwise. Content to just watch her, he lay beside her as the sun's light christened a new day.

Part of him lamented its dawning. He wished the sun would remain below the horizon awhile longer. Even as the thought crossed his mind he refused to dwell on the pending departure. Yet the harder he pushed it away, the more persistent it became: like trying to hold a barrel underwater.

How did husbands do this, he wondered. How did they leave their wives and go off to war? Never knowing if they would return…

While Legolas still firmly believed he would come back, he could not help but dread feel of _what if_ lingering over him like a grim specter. Rolling over he faced Lana, their noses a scant centimeter apart. A simple movement from him would allow them to touch. Unable to control himself, he lifted a hand to caress her hair. Lana sighed, stirring underneath his touch. He swallowed, part of him not wanting to wake her, but the other part desiring to drink in the sight of her eyes.

Gradually they did open. They were foggy with sleep and she blinked, her brow furrowing as she tried to focus on what was so close to her face. Eyes clearing she saw him and her lips curved in a familiar way that made his spirit hum. Arching Lana stretched like a cat and sighed.

_"Aurmaer,"_ Legolas greeted softly.

A drowsy smile touched her eyes. _"Buongiorno,"_ she mumbled cheekily.

He chuckled softly, his hand stroking her head only to cup her cheek as he leaned into her lips. He pressed against her pliant mouth for several long moments before drawing back.

_"Mmhm_…it is a very good morning," Lana purred in a voice still tinged with sleep.

Propping himself up on his elbow, Legolas leaned on his fist, his forefinger braced against his cheek. Idly he stroked her face and hair, memorizing both the look and feel of each. He dove into the pleasant memories of the night before, and it stirred his desire anew. His touch became bolder and it drew her further from her repose into wakefulness.

"Is it truly morning?" Lana asked, her easy happiness evaporating like mist before the sun.

Legolas hooded his eyes, wishing to delay the answer. "Aye," he gruffly said after a moment.

Lana grew solemn. Her hand captured his. Repositioning it over her heart she held on to it tightly. She didn't say anything, for what words could there be? The weight that Legolas had managed to elude the night before found his shoulders again. With a sigh he leaned over her and kissed her slowly this time, determined to make it last.

But dawn was breaking and time was up.

Lana's fingers fisted in his loose hair as she clung to him. Her spirit strained towards his, although he didn't realize the fulminant propinquity that had developed between them until later. Presently, his reaction to their inscrutable connection was instinctive, and he sought to enfold her fully in a protective embrace.

They lost themselves—stealing a few precious moments before duty thrust them apart. Unwillingly, Legolas withdrew from her. Lana's eyes were still closed, savoring the sweetness just a heartbeat longer. When her eyes did open the dark blue depths were filled with resignation and sorrow.

She studied his face intently before brushing his hair behind his ears. Legolas' voice hummed in bitter pleasure as her fingertips grazed one pointed tip. Leaning down one last time, he nuzzled her before regretfully drawing away.

o0o

Despite their depleted numbers, the armies of Gondor and Rohan with addition of thirty Dúnedain and two elven warriors, was still a resplendent sight. Banners depicting the star-crowned White Tree and the Rampant Horse caught high on the stiff morning breeze. The standard of the King was held proudly at the front. Those citizens that survived the siege cast down flowers and called to their warriors praising them high words and chanting uplifting songs of glory.

However, riding through the destruction of Pelennor was a solemn experience for all. Carrion birds still picked at those bodies left behind. Flies rose in disturbed clouds as they passed. The rising temperature made the scent of decaying flesh worse. It was a grisly sight. The faces of the soldiers were grim and the fire for vengeance burned hotly in their hearts. No matter that their forces were outnumbered. They would make the Dark Lord pay.

It would be a four-day ride to the Black Gates, provided all went well. But there was always a chance that they could be waylaid. Gimli rode with Legolas once more. He could feel a certain tension in the elf's body as the elven prince rode less naturally than usual. Not that he could blame the lad. This could very well be their last ride.

Gimli was pensive too. His mind had sifted through the many memories of his life. He lingered long on the days spent in Lothlórien and its golden lady. Her gift to him was tucked away over his heart. What courage her simple smile would give him this day. Alas! He had only the memory of it.

Thinking about the other woman dear to his heart, he pondered the relationship between the Legolas and Lana. That morning there had seemed to be something that shimmered between them. It wasn't detectable to the eye, but Gimli had noted that something was different.

For her part, Lana had held her head high, stoutly refusing to let tears enter her eyes. She had spoken to each of them privately. To his surprise she had not brought up Legolas when she said her farewell to him.

"I expect to hear stories of crazy heroics accomplished by the mad dwarf named Gimli," she had said with forced cheek. "And I expect him to slay no less than one hundred orcs!"

Gimli had laughed at that. "Rest assured lassie, my ax could take more than a hundred orc necks and still be as keen as a razor! You'll have enough tales of dwarven courage to fill twenty volumes!"

Her smile had brightened the gloomy morning. "Good. And I want details—perhaps I'll put your accomplishments to song." She mused with a humorous smile.

"It would be an honor." He told her genuinely. Then without prompting he added, "And I'll keep an eye on the elf for you." He covered both her hands with his.

Her eyes had turned tender and she bowed her head in thanks. "Please do. And I expect him to watch out for you as well. You all must return to me. I expect no less."

Patting her hands he grinned through his beard. Then to his surprise, she pulled him into a strong embrace. "Be safe," she whispered then withdrew.

She had said her goodbyes to Legolas last. The elf had drawn her aside, away from the curious eyes that followed them.

"She seems to be dear to all of you, this foreign lady," one of the sons of Elrond had commented.

Glancing up at the scion of Rivendell's master, Gimli grunted. "Aye. She is."

Ignoring the questioning look Gimli had walked over to Arod and waited for Legolas. Farewells were never easy. But he refused to dwell on them. There was a war to win.

o0o

Lana sat with Éowyn out in the gardens. Her mood was deeply brooding and an aura of intense self-absorption hung around her. The Shield Maiden noted this change with interest. Strangely, Éowyn felt moved to comfort Lana. Not with just idle conversation, but something far deeper and intimate. For the first in a very long time, Éowyn wished to have someone to truly call friend—who she could confide in.

And despite her past fatalistic predilections Lana had weathered her stormy moods and befriended her. Éowyn saw this clearly now. Truth be told, she admired Lana on some levels. She might not be a warrior bred, but she carried a fighting spirit. The woman seemed to make her own path in the world. It was something Éowyn wished to do as well.

Yet now her friend sat grimly with downcast eyes. She hadn't told her much about what happened with Legolas, but Éowyn had seen the love they held for each other as Lana said farewell to the elf. It seemed to her that Lana had managed to mend the rift between her and Legolas. Not typically nosy, Éowyn now found herself curious for gossip.

So, she tried to draw her friend out. She had been speaking at her for the last several minutes but Lana hardly seemed to be paying attention.

"Are you well, Lana? You look piqued."

Lana blinked slowly then focused on her. The smile that drew back on her lips was so forced that even Éowyn could tell it was fake. "I'm fine. What did you say Faramir spoke about?"

Éowyn pursed her lips. "He was telling me of his brother and how they learned to ride out on Pelennor." Her eyes glittered as she recalled the kind face and attentive eyes.

Thoughts of the new Steward were like sunshine in a world of gray. An alien feeling of warmth and awareness tingled in her heart. It was a very strange feeling. Her heart after being like stone for so long now felt the first prick of life. It was like the pins-and-needle sensation of when your foot comes awake after falling asleep. It was uncomfortable yet oddly pleasurable at the same time.

She recalled how sad Faramir's eyes had looked when he spoke of his elder brother.

Her own older brother was riding towards the Black Gates at this very moment.

As was Lana's paramour. It still amazed Éowyn that Lana and the elven warrior were courting. Their story was the stuff of fairy-tales. When was the last time a mortal fell in love with one of the _Eldar?_ She didn't know. But what shocked her further was that they had fallen in love at all. Now was not a sensible time for romance. But she supposed that it couldn't be helped. Éowyn bit her lip and glanced again at Lana who seemed lost in thought.

"How did you first know you were in love?" She asked precipitously. "What did it feel like?"

Lana's unfocused gaze returned to hers. She saw something like a yearning ache within them, but then a genuine smile curved her lips. Lana truly was a beautiful woman she suddenly thought. Her foreign features made her look exotic. The cat shaped eyes were a blue so vivid that Éowyn thought their color matched the rich sapphires in her mother's jewelry box. Dark brown brows winged elegantly over those blue eyes—and they were used to great effect when she talked.

Her face was symmetrical, Éowyn noted: an oval shape with a pert nose and sensual lips. Lana's skin was pale now, but she recalled how she looked when she first arrived in Edoras. Lightly tanned from days out in the sun, it had given her a healthy look of vitality. Some color was returning to her countenance though. Despite still healing from her wounds, Lana carried herself with a confidence any court lady would envy.

And Éowyn _did_ envy her, she realized. Or at least she once did. Back when she thought Aragorn's eyes had turned to Lana; but Éowyn had been sorely mistaken on that account. Funnily enough, she no longer pined after the dark haired Ranger. Her own eyes had since turned to another.

Lana gave her question thorough consideration, Éowyn noted. When at last she spoke her voice held a huskier tinge than usual.

"I didn't recognize it at first." A self-deprecating smile touched her lips. "Even before meeting him I had convinced myself that true love didn't exist. And when I did start to feel the first inkling of love I dismissed it. I didn't think it was real, or at least substantial. And I had dismissed Legolas' attentiveness as just a characteristic of elves.

"You know," she rotated to face Éowyn. "Prior to meeting Legolas, I had never seen or met an elf before. And I knew nothing about them or their customs."

Éowyn nodded. The elves were a reclusive race. They seemed to venture into the world less and less as the years passed. Legolas was Éowyn's first encounter with an elf as well.

"When he finally told me he loved me, I was shocked beyond comprehension." She snorted lightly and shook her head. "I thought, 'This must be a dream. I'm dreaming. He can't love me.' I just couldn't quite accept his words at first."

Éowyn found this confession difficult to believe. Given all the interactions she had witnessed between the two, she would have thought it obvious.

Lana continued, unaware of Éowyn's thoughts. "I'd been in love before, mind you. Or rather I should say I've been unlucky in love. There were others...back home. I thought I loved them—and they me, but it turned out to be nothing more than a shallow symbiotic interest in each other."

Lana sat back, carefully choosing her words. "True love I've come to realize, is something far more profound and more intimate that just 'liking' someone a lot. It's more than physical attraction. True love is something that transcends boundaries. It is something that takes root deep in the soul. It perseveres through hardship; betrayal even."

Éowyn cocked her head. "What do you mean? What betrayal do you speak of?"

Lana looked down at her hands, carefully spreading her fingers. "Any kind of betrayal, I suppose. In my case, a betrayal of trust: Legolas and Aragorn and Gimli, they all trusted that I would return to Edoras. I broke that trust when I rode in with the Rohirrim." She sighed heavily her eyes staring out at the gardens but not seeing them. "I didn't see it like that at first, but now…now I can understand. And I regret my actions." Then she snorted softly, her lips curving wryly. "Mostly."

She caught Éowyn's eye and she smiled with her. "We are surely one of kind," Éowyn remarked.

Lana chuckled. "We are at that." She shook her head, thinking. "I suppose what I'm trying to say is that love isn't easy. It's really, really hard. But that doesn't matter." She held Éowyn's gaze. "Because when it's true love it overcomes everything—and it is worth _everything."_

Unable to hold Lana's intense gaze, Éowyn looked down. New thoughts whirled in her head and chief among them was the handsome Steward. Was it love she felt? She wasn't too sure, but she did feel _something_.

"I would like you to meet Faramir," she said suddenly. "I would like your opinion of him."

Lana's brows rose. "My opinion? Well sure, I guess. I don't know how valuable my opinion would be to you."

She leaned forward and gripped Lana's unbandaged hand. "It would mean a great deal to me. You are the dearest friend that I have."

Lana held her gaze with a look of astonishment. Then a genuine smile tugged at her lips. "Thank you." She turned her hand over and squeezed Éowyn's. "I'm beyond touched…I…" she then laughed. "I don't know what to say! You've stolen my ability to speak!"

Éowyn laughed with her. "I've learned the skill from watching you."

Lana's eyes sparkled. "Truly? Well then, I'm flattered."

The women spent the rest of the afternoon in the gardens chattering away. Their friendship not only solidified but also blossomed into something strong and lasting. It felt good to find another kindred spirit. Each of them had missed the joys of having a truly good female friend.

And theirs became a friendship that would last a lifetime.

o0o

Legolas stood as a sentinel on the edge of the camp. The night was dark as pitch and even his elven sight had difficulty piercing the gloom. They were in the umbra of the Ephel Dúath—the Mountains of Shadow. Aptly named, he thought dismally. The razor peaks were the stuff of nightmares. They disturbed even _his_ elven equilibrium.

It was in the last War of the Ring where his grandfather and father had made a stand before the very steps of Barad-dûr. There the elves of Greenwood commanded by Oropher had put up a stout resistance. But it was where, unfortunately, his grandfather fell. It had happened well before his birth, but Legolas had heard the stories about how that battle changed his father.

Thranduil had witnessed it all. The prince of the Silvan elves found himself abruptly king of a nation that had become a mere fraction of its former strength. In the end it was a victory for the allied forces, but for Greenwood, it was a devastating defeat. And the Silvan people never recovered.

The chroniclers outside their wood had said that Oropher would not submit to the High King's command. He had rushed into battle instead of waiting for the signal from Gil-Galad. But that was not what their historians told.

Gil-Galad had failed to inform Oropher and Thranduil of the sudden arrival of Sauron's most accursed captain. The Nine had come—the Nazgûl—and their leader had put their sights on the Silvan army. According to eyewitness accounts, Oropher had to make a decision: to wait for the High King's signal or be slaughtered by the _Úlaire_.

Legolas sighed. He knew the story well though his father had never spoken of it. When his mother died, the last of his father's joy seemed to die with her. He became calculating, cold even, although Legolas would hesitate to say his father was outright cruel. Thranduil made all his decisions to protect what was left of his father's realm. And the Silvan elves loved him. But their numbers never recuperated—and to this day their realm was a shadow of what it once was.

While Thranduil had kept his son on a short leash, Legolas now better understood his father's actions. It was Lana who helped reach this full compassionate realization. She had been able to see the love behind the coldness in his father's actions where Legolas had seen naught but control and distrust. It had been the desire to protect what was closest to his heart.

He understood now.

A muscle jumped in his jaw as it tightened. Lana filled his thoughts now. The memory was at once sweet and bitter. He physically ached for her. Unlike before when they had been separated this time it felt like his spirit was being stretched. It was as though a golden cord was anchored in his soul and in hers, and the further away he rode the more taut the cord became, choking him.

Did she feel it also? He wondered. Mortals did not love in the same way elves did. Or at least that was what he had always been taught. They could not feel as deeply as the _Eldar_. Their hearts were not so severely crushed by grief and sorrow. They were resilient. This was what he had been taught; but the love he had glimpsed between Aragorn and Arwen, and the love between himself and Lana tested that statute.

He was convinced that their love defied those conventions. The adoration in her eyes was just too strong, too real, to not match his own. And now their connection had strengthened even further. Perhaps that's why he felt pain now. It was incomplete, their bond. His spirit yearned to finish what the flesh had already begun: the _Fëaveryala_. It was the binding of their spirits. He hadn't thought it could happen without the proper vows and ceremony attended to, but it appeared he was mistaken.

It was a tenuous union right now, but they had already exchanged something. If he concentrated he could sense her presence. Following that slender yet inexorable cord he could feel Lana on the other end. If he tugged on it, would she feel him?

Legolas exhaled bowing his head. All his concentration was needed to keep watch this night. No matter how much his heart yearned for her, both he and she would have to wait. His hand tightened on his mighty Galadhrim bow. There was an enemy to bring to justice. And he stood between Legolas and Lana. His jaw tightened as he ground his teeth.

Hearing a faint sound he went on alert. Concentrating all his senses he searched out the disturbance. There it was. Behind him. A faint intake of breath; the rustle of cloth. It was too subtle to be an orc. His jaw clenching further he waited. Then in a movement faster than the eye could track he whirled with arrow on his bowstring.

"Peace Legolas Thranduilion!" The pale hands and face of one of the twins loomed before him. The sulky lips curved. "Heard me did you?"

Lifting his chin Legolas eased up on his bow. "Gimli makes less noise."

The other elf snorted. "I would think not, though by your glower I can tell you are displeased to see me."

"Nay. I always rejoice to see one of my kin." He quipped flatly.

Legolas peered at the dark haired _ellon_ trying to discern which it was he spoke to. The brothers were so alike in appearance and voice that it was difficult even for those close to them to distinguish between the two. And Legolas didn't know them well.

"Is it your custom to disturb those on watch?"

The ambiguous _ellon_ shrugged. "Not usually; unless it is my brother. Elladan is easily distracted," he flashed a toothy grin.

Ah, so this was Elrohir. Legolas had suspected so but had been unsure. He narrowed his eyes studying the other elf before returning his focus to the surrounding hills.

"I have rarely seen you so taciturn; virulent even." Elrohir cocked his head, a glimmer of amusement pervading the air around him.

Legolas bit back a sigh. It seemed his stoic mien was not enough to deter this one. "These are unhappy days, as well you know."

Elrohir shrugged nonchalantly. "Perhaps. I fail to see the difference between these days and those before it. As ever I hunt orc with my brother. Whether we do so singularly or in an army makes little difference." Despite the laissez-faire tone, Legolas could detect the deeply rooted disdain in Elrohir's voice.

Ever since they had rescued their mother from a brutal orc attack the brothers had sought to rid the entire world of their presence—singlehandedly. They rarely spent time in Rivendell once she had departed for Valinor. Instead they scoured lands far and wide with deadly intent.

"Still, I sense there is something more to your morose mood than mere battle resolution." Elrohir leaned against a boulder that poked up from the ground. Legolas chose to say nothing. Undeterred, Elrohir continued. "Tell me of that foreign woman—Lana is it? An unusual name."

Legolas tensed further and had to restrain himself from glaring at the elf. What was with Elrohir's persistent interest in Lana? Since first spying her it seemed that Elrond's son wanted to know all about her. Given that he hadn't much of a chance to speak with her, Elrohir seemed keen to pry the information from Legolas.

"Where she is from it is not so strange." He grit out in annoyance.

"And where is she from?" Elrohir asked intrepidly.

Legolas clamped his mouth shut. Elrohir leaned forward to peer at his face, eyes narrowed.

"Can you not tell me? Then just say so."

"I cannot tell you."

"And why is that?"

Legolas sent Elrohir a warning with his eyes. Unperturbed his uninvited visitor carried on. "I sense something strange about her. It is more than just her name or even her manner of speech—though I have never heard the like of it before." He trailed off thinking.

At that moment, Legolas recalled that Elrohir was Elrond's son—and Elrond had the gift of foresight. As did his grandmother, Lady Galadriel. Did Elrohir see Lana's past? Suddenly defensive he spoke up, hoping to throw the other elf off the trail.

"She is under our protection. We came across her abandoned in the wilds and have since taken her in."

Elrohir lifted a brow. "Abandoned?" Shaking his head he sighed. "There are times I do not understand the mortal races. What would possess her people to leave her behind?"

Legolas chose to let him ponder on that. It wasn't the full truth but it was enough. As far as Legolas was concerned her world _had_ abandoned her. There had been no answers of any kind that could speak as to why or how she arrived in Middle Earth. And that didn't matter right now.

Looking back at Legolas, Elrohir became shrewd. "She seems rather fond of you." Tilting his head he observed the defensive posture of the prince. "And I venture to guess that the feeling is mutual. Shall I offer my congratulations then?"

"You overstep yourself, Elrohir. Speak not on what you do not know!" Legolas snapped.

Elrohir smirked and folded his arms across his chest. "Do I not? Very well, but I do not envy you, Legolas. Lovely though she may be, she is mortal. Your father will not be pleased."

Legolas lashed out and caught Elrohir by the collar. "You test my patience, Elrondion. Leave. Now."

Elrohir held up his hands in mock surrender. "Aye, I shall go. But be sure you know your heart fully, Legolas. It is no easy thing to love a mortal." The humor left Elrohir's eyes and he turned back to the main camp.

Those words struck a cord within the prince that he rather have left unplucked. Now that it vibrated in his chest his heart ached anew. Lana's mortality was not something he wished to have on his mind this night.

If they both survived this war he would still lose her in the end. Death would find her and steal her away from him—her spirit flying to that place where no elf could go. Even should he fade from grief and give up his own spirit, his would go to Mandos' halls. If judged worthy he could take corporal form again and walk the lands of Valinor. But his heart would still be gone with Lana.

Elrohir, he knew, had more reason than most to know of this pain. He and his brother had seen many a boy of Isildur's line grow to manhood, age, and then die. And now their own sister had chosen to forsake the birthright of her kin to bind with Aragorn. She would die, but her spirit would be allowed to follow Estel's, forever severed from Middle Earth.

Legolas did not have that choice.

It was granted only to those of Lúthien's line.

Why was he thinking on this now? He silently cursed Elrohir. Looking up he strained to see a glimpse of the stars. Dark clouds blotted out the sky yet there was a brief crack in the thick cover. Through it he could see a single star. It shimmered brightly and it brought some solace to his heart.

_Elbereth, Great Star Kindler, hear me…let us be victorious in battle tomorrow. Guide my arrows so that I may return to Lana. All I wish now is to only return to her. Nothing else matters but this._

* * *

_NB: _Úlaire_ is Sindarin for Nazgûl. _

_Thoughts? _

_Thank you all for your comments and reviews!_

_And as always, thanks for reading! _


	57. Blue Velvet

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.**

I don't own anything of Tolkien's Middle Earth. I just play there.

* * *

**Chapter 56: Blue Velvet**

Lana did not have to wait long to meet Faramir. He had invited Éowyn to supper, and her friend had obtained an invitation for her as well. It was good to have the distraction and to meet someone new even though she wanted nothing more than to stay closeted away with her misery. The parting from Legolas cut like a knife. If she thought her desire for him had been unusually strong before, it was positively stifling now.

It was all too easy to become mired in her thoughts. The only thing holding her heart intact was a slender but redoubtable hope that everyone would return safely. And her heart was held in place by an invisible knife in her chest. If she tried to remove it she knew she would crumple into a pathetic heap.

She could not allow that to happen. It would dishonor her friends. Determined to keep up appearances, Lana bathed and dressed choosing a deep blue gown from the wardrobe. She took time brush out her hair. It had grown and it was now creeping down towards the center of her back. She still couldn't braid it, but thankfully her head was feeling much better. It was only a bit tender from Legolas' probing fingers during their magical night together.

Closing her eyes she relived the memories, savoring each of them. Her body hummed impatiently. Added to it was her spirit's longing. Legolas was incredible. Physically she had never seen his equal. Part of her wondered if this was because he was an elf, although she was tempted to believe that he was a paragon of his kind. But he had more than beauty—it was his heart and mind that she loved more than anything. His kindness, persistence, and patience had worn down her defensive walls. He sought to know her inside and out. His interest in who she was and her world fed her need to be heard and understood in this strange otherworldly existence she found herself in.

But their relationship wasn't one sided—he had taught her many things as well, and was patient with her sometimes virulently selfish and aloof behavior. It was with fondness now that she recalled the awkward days in Lothlórien. She had to laugh at herself. How could she have ever been afraid of Legolas? She remembered the night where they had sat alone going through her sketchbook—and even swiping through pictures on her iPhone.

She shuddered to think that it would all end.

Setting aside her self-pity, she rummaged through her makeup bag. She looked worse for wear, but at least a bit of makeup could fix that. She didn't want to meet Éowyn's love-interest looking like an invalid.

Idith had been kind enough to rustle up a few more dresses. Where she found them, Lana couldn't say, but they were clean and looked better than her own battered wardrobe. Whoever owned them previously was shorter than Lana though. She sighed. This was a reoccurring problem. Lana was taller than most women here. She assumed it was due to her diet growing up—_and the hormones in everything._

"I need my own clothes," she told her reflection, plucking at the blue dress that barely reached the tops of her feet.

A kernel of an idea came into her mind then. Perhaps, once all this war business was over, she could learn to sew. Lana loved fashion the idea of introducing some new styles to the rather monotonous medieval clothing of Middle Earth was enticing.

Turning the notion over in her mind she headed out to meet Éowyn. The Shield Maiden would be spending her last night in the infirmary. Tomorrow she would be moved to the guest wing—hopefully near Lana.

"You look transformed!" Éowyn exclaimed when she pulled her door open. "How do you do it?"

Lana smiled, and thread her arm through Éowyn's. "It's a trick every woman needs to learn. I'll teach you." They laughed conspiratorially.

They were to dine in a private room in the Houses of Healing. It's original function was something else entirely though. Walking through the doors Lana admired the tall bookcases and the large hearth. A fire was cackling merrily to itself.

The moment they entered the room, Éowyn pulled her arm from Lana's and made straight for the tall gentleman who Lana had seen only from behind. Looking him over Lana had to applaud Éowyn's taste. Faramir was quite handsome.

His shoulder length hair was light brown with hints of auburn. Clear gray eyes were soft yet intelligent looking. He sported a short and neatly trimmed beard. His clothing was fine but simple. Lana could see that he wasn't the flamboyant type. He reminded her of a young scholar rather than a warrior. But Éowyn had told her much about his fighting prowess.

His eyes lit up upon seeing Éowyn, and Lana detected a familiar gleam. It was the same look Legolas gave her. Undoubtedly the new Steward was in love with her friend. Lana couldn't see Éowyn's face as she moved ahead, but her behavior betrayed her excitement.

"Welcome Lady Éowyn, my lady," Faramir said, nodding graciously to each of them. "I hope you do not mind simple fare this evening."

Lana's lips quirked as Éowyn was quick to reassure him. "Simple doesn't mean lacking. It smells wonderful."

Faramir grinned, his whole face radiating happiness.

Éowyn then turned and reached a hand towards Lana. "Allow me to introduce my dear friend, Lady Lana."

Smiling Lana moved forward and held out her hand for him to shake. "A pleasure,"

Of course, with the medieval mores firmly intact, Faramir did not shake her hand but kissed it cordially instead.

"The pleasure's mine, Lady Lana. A friend of Lady Éowyn's is a friend of mine." Yet as he spoke his eyes darted back to Éowyn's.

There was something about Faramir that tickled Lana's mind. It was his facial structure, even his voice, but she couldn't place it. He offered his right hand to Éowyn and his left to Lana, which she took despite the inexplicable qualm that ruffled her mind.

"I've managed to convince the kitchens to surrender up some wine as well." Faramir said convivially. "It is excellent, from the vineyards near Dol Amroth."

Being the new Steward did come with certain privileges, Lana thought dryly. Faramir was every inch the gentleman and Lana found herself responding easily to him. However she couldn't shake the feeling that she _knew_ him. Perhaps they had met before.

She pursed her lips slightly. Her memory was more or less intact but there were still times when she couldn't remember some things.

As Faramir and Éowyn dominated the conversation, Lana allowed herself to observe their dinner. A roasted ham was accompanied with root vegetables and potatoes. The meat glistened as if glazed. Lana felt her mouth water. Everything smelled delicious, and after days of porridge and sad broths her stomach was ready for something more substantial.

"I have never tried Dol Amroth wine before," Éowyn said, recapturing Lana's focus. "But its reputation has reached us in Edoras."

Faramir grinned and poured her a glass. "It's a fine wine. Personally I think it comparable to Dorwinion, but with a more subtle flavor."

Lana smiled in thanks as Faramir passed her a glass.

"Have you tried it before, Lady Lana?"

She shook her head as she gently swirled the dark red wine in her goblet. "I can't say that I have. But I love wine."

She brought the glass to her nose and inhaled a faint oaky aroma. It was a bit dry but left a pleasant flavor on the tongue. Its taste was mild and reminded her of summer. She was drawn back to the conversation when Éowyn mentioned her.

"Lady Lana traveled with Gandalf and Lord Aragorn and his company to Edoras. It was Gandalf who released my uncle from Saruman's witchcraft."

"Truly?" Faramir looked upon Lana with greater interest. "Tell me, Lady—did you perhaps know my brother? Boromir was his name."

Lana was relieved she had set her wine down for she would have dropped it right then. She felt the color drain from her face. _Of course! How did I not see it?_ It all made sense now. Looking at Faramir she could see the family resemblance.

In her mind she saw Boromir's sneering face. _Witch_. Inconspicuously she clenched her left hand over her right. Of course there was no chance the scar could be visible under the bandages. Nor could Faramir know anything about what transpired between her and his brother, but Lana felt the distinct urge to hid it anyway.

"I met him. Briefly." She hoped her tone didn't give her away.

"He had been traveling with the Fellowship that departed Rivendell, I was told." He was wholly unaware of her discomfort. His gaze turned reflective. "The Halfling, Peregrin told me what happened." The sorrow in his voice touched both women. Éowyn reached across the table and touched his hand briefly. Faramir smiled faintly, which caused her to blush and withdraw her hand.

"Were you there at his end, my lady?" Faramir asked solemnly, looking back to Lana.

Despite the warmth of the room, Lana felt a chill run down her spine. She recalled the arrow-riddled body of Boromir, and his chest heaving desperately. Parting her lips no sound came forth and she glanced away trying to collect herself.

Faramir was perceptive however and he spoke up. "You needn't say anything, my lady. Forgive me if I have distressed you. It is just my brother was very dear to me. I find myself eager to hear of him even though he is gone."

Lana nodded wanly and forced her lips into a semblance of a smile. "I understand. I too have lost a brother."

Faramir and Éowyn both gave her a sympathetic look. Éowyn reached across the table, this time to squeeze her hand.

"I hadn't realized that," she said with concern.

Lana shook her head and waved their worry away. "It's fine. It's not something I talk about very much." Taking another generous sip of wine she returned her gaze to Faramir. "Yes. I was there when he passed. It is something I will never forget." Her eyes hooded as she gazed down into her goblet. "I had wished I could have done something to help him."

Faramir smiled though it was filled with mourning. "It pleases me greatly to hear this. You are truly a fine woman, Lady Lana. Your sentiments do you credit."

_Hardly_, she thought but she maintained the pleasant mien through the dinner.

The conversation steered away from Boromir to reminiscing about days past when the Shadow wasn't quite so oppressive. Lana was grateful for the change in subject. Picking at her plate she listened as Faramir told stories of days spent on the frontiers of Ithilien as a Ranger.

Describing lands of immense beauty he shared his secret desire to cleanse and restore the ancient territory. Once many centuries before, Ithilien had been fair, and the city of Osgiliath had been the jewel of Gondor. Faramir desired to make it so again.

"And you shall," Éowyn said with newfound optimism.

Lana secretly smiled into her goblet. Faramir was having a profound affect on the chilly Shield Maiden. This was very good, Lana thought. She was pleased to see her friend so happy and free with her smiles.

"With our King returned I have more hope than before," Faramir revealed. "At the very least, I could pursue my dreams without the burden of ruling."

"I like your enthusiasm, Faramir." Lana said lifting her goblet. "It's good to see that people are still hopeful."

He grinned. "One must always have hope, Lady Lana. Without it, we doom ourselves."

Éowyn looked on him with eyes gleaming. Yes, this man was very good for her indeed.

Faramir was not like his brother. He was kind and trusting, as well as open. He had a sense of humor and a bewilderingly positive outlook on life—despite everything that had happened to him. And the man had every reason to be resentful, Lana discovered.

She also noted the way Éowyn's eyes lit up as he spoke, taking in every detail of gesture and smile. It was evident that the Shield Maiden was smitten. The conversation the women had earlier all made sense now. Thankfully the two seemed to have enough colloquy between them that Lana wasn't needed except to add the occasional yes or no.

Her tense muscles gradually relaxed. Faramir was truly a kindhearted soul. There was no need to tell him about the strife between herself and Boromir. It was clear that he idolized his brother. And she didn't want to do anything to taint his memory.

"Where is it that you hail from, Lady Lana?"

Again Lana felt her muscles clench. She lifted her wine glass to hide the fact and to buy some time. She still had yet to come up with an adequate answer to that question. What with all that had been happening she had no time to devise a suitable backstory for herself. And this was going to become a problem.

"Your city is called London, is it not?" Éowyn supplied with a smile.

Mentally Lana swore. It would be much more difficult to describe where London was in relation to everything else in this world instead of picking a small out of the way village to call home. "Ah, yes. I was living in London before I came here."

Knowing that the less said the better, Lana's brain juggled the options before her. It wouldn't do to try and explain that she had worked in London but that her _actual_ home, as it were, was in Redondo Beach, California. That was the last place where her family had lived before she and Aidan went off to college.

It would have been a lot easier if Éowyn hadn't remembered where she was from. Unfortunately, life still seemed to enjoy throwing challenges her way. _Witch_. Stubbornly she bat Boromir's sneering voice away.

"I haven't heard of that city. Where is it exactly?" Faramir asked with keen interest.

"It's, ah, it's pretty far away. I haven't come across any maps here that actually show where it is."

Faramir leaned forward. "Is it beyond East Harad then? I know the continent extends eastward quite a distance but we have few if any maps that show what is beyond those lands."

Should she take the risk? If there were no maps then it was feasible to lie and get away with it. Except that Lana hated lying. And she couldn't do it under pressure.

"It's actually on an island, far from here."

This sparked more questions that Lana had to volley back. She felt like she was in a tennis match and running from end of the court to the other, deflecting questions with what she hoped were suitably detailed yet vague answers. Faramir and Éowyn were well educated, and as such were curious in hearing what Lana had to say about the lands she had seen.

It didn't take long before questions about how she had ended up with the Fellowship arose. Reaching for her goblet she frowned to see that it was empty.

"It was really by chance that I ran into them. It was a good thing too for I found myself alone and with limited provisions. I've been traveling far and wide for many years."

"Truly? On your own?" Faramir exclaimed, clearly fascinated. He kindly refilled her wine glass.

"Yes and no—I mean, I didn't travel with family or anything. But I've made friends along the way. Thankfully, I ran into Aragorn's company before anything bad found me." She didn't even entertain the thought of what could have happened to her if she hadn't met the Fellowship.

Éowyn was looking upon her with amazement. "You are far more courageous than you have led me to believe. Traveling alone across the world! And your family let you?"

Here Lana smirked. "Well, they couldn't stop me. My mother always said I was tenacious with a capital 'T'."

They continued to probe her for stories of the places she had seen and the people she had met. Whether it was the wine or the joy of storytelling, Lana began to loosen her tongue. She was still cautious and glossed over many details, but her audience was riveted.

In all, the evening was rather pleasant—and it was a much needed break from stewing over worries. There was a pleasant euphoric feeling in her head thanks to the wine. She eventually made her excuses so she could give the couple a chance alone. Lana didn't even stop to consider that this wouldn't be socially acceptable. However, Éowyn could take care of herself, and Faramir was a man of honor.

Weaving a bit Lana returned to her room. The corridors felt even more desolate than usual. The city was unnaturally quiet. She felt like she was walking through a ghost town.

Disturbed by the idea she quickly entered her chambers and started lighting all the candles. Her mind flew to Legolas and the remaining Fellowship. She tried to recall what Legolas had told her. Had he said it would take four days to reach the Black Gate? Or was it longer? Tomorrow would be the fourth day.

_Legolas where are you?_

Shedding the heavy gown she slipped back into the silk robe. The night was still as she stepped out onto the balcony. She stared up at the stars. The east was all inky black sporadically shot through with an evil glow of red. Lana glared at the borders of Mordor focusing on her anger and hate for the master of that land. It was because of _him_ her Legolas had to go to war.

_I hope you die a miserable death motherfucker._

o0o

When the horns of Dol Amroth were heard over the plains the remaining citizens of Minas Tirith looked up in joy. Lana, however, knit her brow and gave Éowyn a questioning look. They had been sitting on the Shield Maiden's balcony in her new chambers when the commotion interrupted them.

"What is all that?" Lana asked.

Éowyn stood and leaned over the railing. Far below some seven hundred mounted knights were riding up to the battered gates. The lady squinted trying to make out the banners.

"I think it the Prince Imrahil. Faramir had said he expected his uncle to come to Gondor's aid. I see blue banners with white and silver. It must be the Swan Prince."

Driven by curiosity the women quickly made their way to the courtyard. Faramir was there, mounting up with what remained of the household guard. The new Steward wore a jerkin of black suede with the White Tree emblazoned upon it. Éowyn swept up to his side.

Lana hung back, watching the commotion. She listened to the guards as they spoke amongst themselves. Tongues wagged with excitement although there was a pervasive cynicism that hung around the courtyard. The addition of men from the south was welcome, but they would be little shield against Mordor if the sortie failed.

Her heart flew out to Legolas and she prayed that he and all her friends were safe. A warm sensation filled her chest, but she was quickly distracted from it. Faramir leaned down from his saddle and taking Éowyn's hand he pressed a kiss to it. Then he gathered up his reins and rode at the head of the guard down to the gates.

The two women waited, one with more impatience than the other. To distract Éowyn, Lana began asking questions.

"Who is Prince Imrahil?"

"He is the son of Adrahil II and rules over the fiefdom of Dol Amroth. His sister was Faramir's mother."

Lana nodded making mental notes of all this. The world far more complex and varied that she realized—not that it surprised her. If anything it made her more curious about the places of Middle Earth.

"And where is Dol Amroth exactly?"

Éowyn shot her a curious glance, and Lana could see the question in her eyes. For one who proclaimed to be well traveled, Lana displayed a startling lack of knowledge of Middle Earth. She covered her ignorance by saying she hadn't seen many maps since arriving here and was trying to place exactly where the city was in her mind.

Accepting this answer, Éowyn detailed where the sea capital lay. "I've heard it a wild place, with sharp rocks dashed by the sea. I've never been there, but I think I would like to see it. Someday."

Lana agreed. She missed the ocean, though it came to her then that she might never see a beach or sea again. Not if it caused Legolas pain. Her lips pursed as she thought about her elven lover. It was a shame really; something that she loved so dearly she couldn't share with him for risk of losing him to that accursed Call.

It took an hour before Faramir returned with his uncle. They rode up to the entrance of the courtyard before dismounting in a flourish. Banners of deep blue and silver glistened in the sunlight. The image of a swan-shaped ship was emblazoned proudly on the standards. They ripple in the light breeze making the swan-ships skip over their embroidered seas.

The joy on Faramir's face was infectious, and those around him smiled as well. No matter what the future held, things would be better with the Swan Prince by their side.

Lana regarded the man with interest. He was tall and had a noble bearing. Long hair, which had once been as dark as a blackfish, was now streaked with lines of silver. Unlike the Gondorians, the Dol Amroth soldiers were clean-shaven. Their long faces were elegant and grace sat on their shoulders. They stood beneath their heavy blue banners with ease and confidence but with a slight air of superciliousness.

Lana cocked her head to one side curiously. There was something about these men that she couldn't place—something about the way they carried themselves. She blinked snapping herself out of her thoughts as Faramir approached them with his kinsman.

"Lady Éowyn, Lady Lana, may I introduce my uncle, Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth."

Éowyn executed a perfect courtesy, which Lana tried to copy.

"An honor and a pleasure, your highness," Éowyn said rising.

Lana observed that Imrahil had very similar eyes to Aragorn. In fact there seemed to be a glow in them that reminded her of…_of Elrohir!_ Now that she thought about it, the man had an almost elvish quality about him.

Imrahil smiled politely. His silver armor flashed in the sun and his deep blue cloak was highly decorated with silver threads and twin swans.

"It is my honor to meet the woman who destroyed the Nazgûl chieftain. All of Gondor—nay, all of Middle Earth is in your debt, my lady."

Éowyn actually blushed with the praise but she held her head high and proud.

Turning his gaze to Lana, Imrahil studied her with some interest. "And you, Lady Lana. Are you kinswoman to Rohan's finest Shield Maiden?"

She shook her head. "We are dear friends only."

"She hails from the city of London on a far-off isle. Mayhap you've heard of her city?" Faramir interjected.

Lana felt her face grow stiff. Imrahil glanced to his sister-son and shook his head. "I have not. But the sea is wide and there are undoubtedly countless islands unknown to us." He returned his look to Lana who quickly smoothed her face into one of amiably. "Perchance when there is time, you may tell me of it."

Lana murmured a polite noncommittal comment. The prince moved off with Faramir. Once his back was turned Lana felt her body sag. _That was too close._ Éowyn, canny as ever, noticed and put a hand on her shoulder.

"You'd think I'd be used to royalty by now, but," Lana offered lamely.

Thankfully Éowyn believed her words.

o0o

It took eight days before the host led by Aragorn reached the Desolation of the Morannon. The heaps and slags that stretched before the Black Gates appeared to be deserted, but they all knew they were being carefully tracked.

The army was some seven thousand strong—a laughable amount. In Gondor's glory days a contingent of this size would have been a mere fraction of its full strength. Some had even turned aside as fear overtook them. Aragorn looked upon the frightened. Most were young men from far away where Mordor was only a story. To look upon the ghastly plains before the iron gates was enough to try the valor of the most stouthearted of warriors, let alone these fresh soldiers.

Instead of feeling wrath at their cowardice, Aragorn felt pity. He dismissed them with mercy and honor, commanding those who could not stay to go forth and take back Cair Andros. The island was of great strategic importance to both Gondor and Mordor. Whoever possessed control of it could cross the Anduin freely and take control of northern Gondorian lands of Anórien.

Some of the soldiers were shamed and resolved to stay. Others were relieved to have a task they were equal to and set forth at once.

Legolas and Gimli rode with Aragorn and Gandalf. They looked upon the dead land with dread as well, though their courage never failed.

"Never before this quest had I thought to find myself in these accursed lands." Gimli groused.

Legolas stared ahead. His eyes saw more than most. He had seen how they were tracked by the enemy. High above them the remaining Nazgûl circled. They made no sound but their presence was felt by all. It set everyone on edge—including the sons of Elrond. Their chipper moods shifted into grim-faced resolution. This was a side rarely seen by their friends.

"My father and grandfather witnessed the last war in this desert. I had not thought to find myself here either, _mellon nín."_

"Let us hope we have better luck than your forbearers."

They camped for the night. Around them the air was still, but they all could hear things creeping about in the gloom. Occasionally eyes glowed and wolves howled, but nothing approached. No one slept that night.

Reaching out to the tether that ran between Lana and himself, Legolas closed his eyes. He focused on that link. He sensed anxiety but not distress on her end, though it could have been his own feelings muddling connection. He thought he felt her. Several days ago he and sensed a tingling sensation in his chest, though it was faint. It could have been merely his own concerns that caused his heart to twist. Or it might have been her.

Conjuring up her smile he replayed her singing in Edoras and then in Minas Tirith. He recalled the vivid color of her eyes. Deep blue ringed with indigo. They glowed like the center of a flame when the light hit them just right. It struck him then of what her eyes reminded him of. They were the same color of his mother's blue velvet dress. He had nearly forgotten the memory.

The dress had been a gift from his father. Even as an elfling the color had attracted him. Legolas had never seen something so blue before. The material had been soft but comfortingly warm. The skirts were voluminous and he had hidden behind them, playing games with his father.

He remembered his mother's laugh as she had turned and snatched him up. Her lips like rose petals against his cheek. All manner of warmth and security had encircled him, and he had come to associate the color blue with home. No matter where he was he was home when in his mother's arms.

He loved that dress.

And he missed his mother.

Just as he now missed Lana. It was different and yet the same. Reaching out with his spirit he sought to send her some reassurance. He didn't know if she could feel him or not, but he trusted that she would.

A new chorus of wolves jolted him from his concentration.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow the reckoning would come. And afterward, he would return to Lana, and commission a blue velvet dress for her.

* * *

_Thoughts? _

_As always, thanks for reading!_


	58. Snatching Victory from Jaws of Defeat

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.**

I don't own anything of Tolkien's Middle Earth. I just play there.

**Nota Bene**: I am following the book more than the movie at this point. The ending in the book is far richer than the movie and also gives a more believable timeline. Also note that the dialogue spoken by the Fellowship is 95% Tolkien, taken from _The Return of the King. _This includes the song Legolas sings.

* * *

**Chapter 57: Snatching Victory From the Jaws of Defeat**

They only knew it was dawn when the creepers of the night disappeared and a weak stale light changed the shadows from black to gray. Aragorn rode towards the towering gates with the leaders of the Free People at his side. Each race was represented: Men, Elves, Dwarves, and Hobbits; and they all looked for recompense.

Their banners hardly moved for the air was deathly still. In fact, the land seemed deserted.

"Let the Lord of the Black Land come forth! Justice shall be done upon him!" The heralds cried. "For wrongfully he has made war upon Gondor and wrested its lands. Therefore the King of Gondor demands that he should atone for his evils, and depart then forever. Come forth!"

A long silence greeted them. Legolas scoured the toothed gate, his eyes seeking any movement. There was nothing. After a long moment a groaning was heard as if a great beast had been awoken. Agonizingly the gates opened and revealed Sauron's ambassador. Evil flowed from the creature that was neither an orc nor quite a man. The figure rode upon what might have been a black horse but its head was more of a skull than flesh and blood. An evil red gleam like an unhallowed fire was in its eye sockets and nostrils. The creature grunted and gnashed the bit between its broken teeth. A dark liquid dripped from its mouth.

Who the rider was none could say, not even he himself knew anymore for so long in Sauron's service he had been. But legends told that he was once of that hated faction, the Black Númenóreans. They had established themselves during the years of Sauron's dominion over the lands and had worshiped him. So once the devil had been a man, but he was now crueler than any orc, and more vicious than any of the Dark Lord's thralls. Eyes gleamed from under a hood, but nothing could be seen beyond a lipless mouth.

Halting before the Captains of the West, the Messenger looked them over with disdain and grotesque humor. Much like a man would look at a writhing worm on the ground, deeming it small and pathetic.

"I am the Mouth of Sauron," he said in a voice twisted with hate. "Is there anyone in this rout with the authority to treat with me? Or indeed with wit to understand me? Not thou at least!" He mocked turning to Aragorn with scorn. "It needs more to make a king than a piece of elvish glass, or a rabble such as this."

Gimli growled under his breath behind Legolas. The elf leveled a heavy glare at the fallen creature before them. But it was Gandalf who spoke, acting as an ambassador of the West. They traded words, or rather the Mouth traded insults while Gandalf sought to untangle the truth from his lies.

But all hope seemed to dry up when the Messenger revealed a delicate _mithril_ coat. Horror fell upon them and despair filled the vacuum in their hearts. Legolas felt the air stolen from his lungs. It was over. If the Dark Lord's Messenger had Frodo's coat then surely he had Frodo. And the Ring. Sauron was just toying with them.

A vision of darkness and evil filled Legolas' mind. Despair unlike anything he had ever known threatened to suffocate him.

There was nothing for it but to fight and hope for a swift death.

o0o

The teacup fell from Lana's hands as she gasped for air.

"Lana! What is it?" Éowyn rose from her seat.

The room, the table, everything seemed to blur as Lana could only focus on the strained pounding of her heart. It felt like the air was being sucked out of her lungs, and she couldn't get any in. To make matters worst, there seemed to be a weight, like a stone on her chest. Clawing at her bodice she tried to calm herself down. _It's just a panic attack._ But why would she be having one of those? She felt fine just a moment ago.

"Éowyn, I…I can't breathe!"

Instantly the Shield Maiden was at her side. Her words were shrill and she spoke too quickly for Lana to understand. Blood was pounding in her ears.

_What is happening?_ Afraid and confused she immediately thought about Legolas. As she did so, the feeling of panic and desolation grew stronger.

_Legolas!_

Something was wrong. She didn't know how she knew this, but she _knew_ it. Instinctively she felt the need to run. Pulling at her bodice she tried to loosen the restricting fabric. Her panic rubbed off on Éowyn. The Shield Maiden clenched her skirts in indecision.

"I'll…I'll get the healers," she wavered, unsure if she should leave or not.

Lana wanted to tell her no, that it wouldn't be necessary, but the constricting feeling wasn't abating. She bent over staring at her slipper covered toes, forcing herself to take large deep breaths. Amid the overwhelming sense of panic Lana felt a fizzle of concern—but it wasn't hers. Further confused she closed her eyes willing the strange sensations away.

o0o

Legolas ducked as an orc's blade whirled over his head. The whistle of the weapon was far too close. Strands of his hair were sheared but he did not notice as he sprang up to release an arrow point-blank into the orc's eye. There was no time to think as he twisted backward to gain some ground.

Somewhere to his left he sensed Gimli. The dwarf's hearty battle cries assured him that he was well—or at least alive. Legolas could barely think. Their small army was quickly shrinking, encircled by a noose made by the black writhing bodies of their enemies. The sheer number of their foes had made even Legolas' immutable spirit qualm. But he had set his jaw and drew on the centuries of battle experience. Skill and practice could do many things.

_But it cannot defeat sheer numbers._ He dismissed the pessimistic voice in his head. His only thought was to take down the enemy in front of him and move on to the next. Launching back into the fray he became a whirlwind of gold and green in a sea of black.

Above the conflict the Nazgûl wheeled instilling terror and causing men and horses to go into a frenzied madness. The engorged gaze of Sauron was delighted by what he saw. The end was near for the irritation that was Man. The other races were already subdued, their numbers far too small to be any threat to him. He would vanquish them all. Middle Earth would be his to rule—they all would burn.

As his eye remained fixed at the skirmish at his gate, Sauron failed to note the tiny nearly insignificant movement on Orodruin. The Mountain of Fire belched flame, ash, and smoldering rock as it ever did. But it was in part that screen that hid the two hobbits struggling up its side.

Aragorn fought as he never had before. Andúril sang like a flash of lightening amid his foes. A fire was in his soul. Many of his foes fled before the wrath that was on his face. And yet it was not enough. Orcs scattered around him but massive troll leered disdainfully in his direction. Confident in its size the troll swung its club. Aragorn reeled back, the ground rushing up to meet him. For a moment, he felt outside himself as if witnessing the battle from some other place. All sight and sound were distorted until he regained his breath.

But it was a moment too long and the troll was upon him once more. Its deformed foot came down upon the uncrowned king. Aragorn snatched up his knife and plunged it deep into the gnarled flesh. The troll bellowed but didn't desist.

Legolas was in a panic. He had seen the troll strike Aragorn and the man go down. His fingers swept backward to grasp an arrow. Only empty air met his trembling fingers.

"ARAGORN!"

But his shout was lost amid the cacophony of sounds. Whipping out his knives he began slashing and then physically tackling the enemy. Desperation fueled his movements but he could not break through.

o0o

The strange panic attack left Lana thoroughly shaken. In the end, that's all it was, but Éowyn in her fright had called for help and Lana found herself back in the Houses of Healing under strict supervision. Hirgon had checked her over but could find nothing wrong. He had never heard of a panic attack before, but Lana was convinced that that's all it was.

Now she sat ripping sheets with the other orderlies. She desperately needed a distraction and a purpose. Hirgon had frowned but resignedly set her to work making new bandages from old sheets and curtains. End of the world or no, there was work to be done. And there were still plenty wounded left in the city that needed new dressings.

She did not complain. The need to _do _something_—anything—_was hot within her. Éowyn sat with her, her eyes flickering frequently to Lana's solemn face. The other nurse-women chatted around them, but Lana paid them little attention. They didn't seem to keen on including her in their gossip anyway. She took the small knife she was given and slit a seam, and then taking the two pieces she pulled.

The ripping sound was sharp and satisfying. Her fingers moved automatically as her mind raced in circles. Her thoughts were like a dog chasing its tail. Around and around and around…_Rip!_ She rolled the fabric into bundles and placed them in the basket at her feet.

That morning she had woken up with a strange feeling in her gut. It felt like a premonition or something. It had been over a week since she saw Legolas and her friends. No word had been sent. The only thing that was certain was that they had one more day.

Feeling antsy Lana had risen and paced her room. Idith had tried to coerce her into eating some breakfast, but Lana could only take a few bits of the morning gruel before pushing the bowl away. Now she was paying for it with a sour stomach and a light head.

Éowyn had been in a mood as well when she came to visit her. The younger woman seemed like a violin string ready to snap. Their tension seemed to feed off each other making them both irritable. Lana was like a tiger on the edge of creating a massacre. _Riip!_ Something was happening today. She _knew_ it. The battle was today.

And after her strange panic attack, Lana was convinced of it. Her friends, her beloved, they were all fighting for their lives—creating that stupid diversion. She prayed that it worked. She couldn't bear the thought of loosing any one of her friends. And she would die if Legolas was slain.

_Riiiip!_

Of course she wasn't the only one to feel the tension in the air. It was as if the entire world was holding its breath. How long before it passed out, she wondered illogically. _Rip!_ How long before they got news? Rumors whispered behind hands said that they would know immediately if their armies failed. Lana was not so sure.

_Riiip!_ Fingers on autopilot she didn't realize that she had gone through all her sheets. She stared down at her full basket. Neat bundles of fabric lay nestled like eggs. Lana swallowed trying to quell the agitation that coursed through her veins.

_How much longer?_

o0o

It fell. Before their very eyes the demonic tower crumbled. Sauron's howl was like a hurricane. Smoke and ash flew into the air as Mount Doom erupted with liquid fire. From the destruction a dark hand seemed to reach towards the Men of the West, but it was as ephemeral as dust and it dissipated into the air.

Sauron was destroyed.

Yet for the remaining Fellowship, joy turned into horror. Orodruin exploded in a spectacular display that shook the earth under their feet. Frodo had succeeded. But it seemed that his death was sealed.

Legolas watched in dreadful wonder. No thought crossed his mind as he was too shocked by what he was witnessing. What words could ever describe this? What bard could set to rhyme this heartbreaking salvation?

Gandalf, however, refused to lose hope even now. He called to the king of the eagles and the winged monarch bore him up and they sped off towards the dying mountain.

A miracle it was when Gandalf, with the help of the eagles, discovered Frodo and Sam on a pinnacle of stone: an island amid a sea of boiling liquid rock. They were alive, but barely. Triumphantly the armies of Gondor and Rohan along with the sons of Elrond and the Dúnedain rode back to the woods of Ithilien.

Messengers were sent to Minas Tirith and to Edoras to spread the good news. Beyond all hope or thought, Sauron was destroyed and could never again rise up to terrorize Middle Earth again.

The armies made camp in Ithilien, not far from Cair Andros. From their base camp the Men of the West pursued their remaining enemies. Orcs had fled mindlessly into the far shadows of the world, hiding and cowering. But the men of the South and East had tried to put up a resistance. It was futile.

Yet for the Fellowship, they now enjoyed a time well earned filled with joy and revelry. It took several days before the hobbits were coherent, but Aragorn healed them with expert hands.

Legolas' heart soared to see Frodo and Sam. Both were alive! Against all odds they had survived, and it amazed the elf to no end. They were the bravest heroes he had ever met. And they had earned an honored place in history. Legolas knew that he would never forget them or what they had accomplished, though the world would likely change in the future.

They had done the impossible.

And that gave him a hope unlike any he had known. If two hobbits could do what men and elves could not, then what might _he_ accomplish should he dare? A warmth filled his soul as the future seemed bright with new possibilities.

After the fanfare and celebration, the Fellowship withdrew to a pace to speak among themselves and learn what each had done and seen since separating at Parth Galen by Rauros Falls. Laughter and tears were shared.

At length Gandalf rose. "The hands of the King are the hands of healing, dear friends," he said. "But you went to the very brink of death ere he recalled you, putting forth all his power, and sent you into a sweet forgetfulness of sleep. And though you have indeed slept long and blessedly, still it is now time to sleep again."

Gimli agreed hardily. "And not only Sam and Frodo here," he said. "But you too, Pippin and Merry. I love you both, if only because of the pains you have cost me, which I shall never forget. Yet each of you is recovering from grave injuries as well." He reminded them.

Merry was still not at his full strength and Pippin had been nearly crushed to death underneath his enemies. Aragorn had spent much time in healing them as well as Frodo and Sam.

"It is only a day yet since you were first up and abroad again. To bed now you both go. And so shall I."

"And I," Legolas said, "Shall walk in the woods of this fair land, which is rest enough. In days to come, if my Elven-lord allows, some of our folk shall remove hither; and when we come it shall be blessed for a while."

His eyes looked overhead at the spreading branches of the beech trees and elms. As he spoke the words the thought took shape in his heart and mind. This was indeed a fair land, and he desired then to make it like new. How much more beautiful then would it be? Perhaps it could be returned to that primal state of when the world was new and untouched by shadow or grief.

He rose smiling and inhaled deeply. The scent of the great river touched his nose. "But Anduin is near," he murmured almost to himself. "And Anduin leads down to the Sea." _To the Sea!_

Moving off into the trees a song touched his lips.

_To the Sea, to the Sea! The white gulls are crying,_

_The wind is blowing, and the white foam is flying._

_West, west away, the round sun is falling._

_Grey ship, grey ship, do you hear them calling,_

_The voices of my people that have gone before me?_

_I will leave, I will leave the woods that bore me;_

_For our days are ending and our years failing._

_I will pass the wide waters lonely sailing._

_Long are the waves on the Last Shore falling,_

_Sweet are the voices in the lost isle calling,_

_In Eressëa, in Elvenhome that no man can discover,_

_Where the leaves fall not: land of my people for ever!_

The song was unfamiliar on his tongue though he had heard it sung by others of his kin. The sound of the wind through the leaves suddenly sounded like water to him—the gentle hiss like salt waves he had yet to see.

All his cares faded away as he turned his face south. Without conscious thought he wandered in that direction. It consumed his senses—the Call. He didn't know how long he rambled but at some point he felt a touch deep within. It was incessant, annoying even. In the end it was enough to distract him from his contemplation of the ocean.

He frowned, irritated. Turning this invasive sensation over in his mind he discovered it was like a link anchored to his soul. It took him more than a moment to recall what it was—and when he did a deep abiding shame filled his heart.

_Lana!_

It happened again. The Call had overwhelmed him to the point that he forgot about her. Fury quickly took the place of shame. How dare this thing come between him and his love! He did not ask for it! He stopped walking and inhaled deeply. Only the scent of the forest came to him and it effectively cleared away all thoughts of the sea.

Reaching out along that invisible tie between them he closed his eyes and concentrated on Lana. Immediately her face came to his mind. He could see her smile—that quirk that lingered in the corner of her lips when she found something amusing; the blue eyes so dark and deep that he could lose himself in their depths.

It took only a beat before he felt her. He wondered at this connection he shared with her. Did she feel it too? She must. It was too strong to be ignored. He yearned to speak with her, to know her heart. And to ask if she felt this too. For if she did, then their pending union was truly blessed.

Suddenly Legolas realized something. He had yet to actually propose to her! He laughed. What kind of elf was he to forget to ask his lady for her hand? Then again, their relationship was anything but conventional. Still, propriety must be observed. What was left of it anyway.

It did not surprise him that he had already begun to think of her as his wife. He wanted nothing more. His dreams had been filled with his desires for the future. Now he saw her not just as his wife and princess of Mirkwood, but as the Lady of Ithilien. Grand plans took shape in his mind.

Now that Sauron and his evil were gone, Legolas was free to pursue his heart's desire. He needed a ring, he realized. But where to get one? Minas Tirith was in shambles. Legolas doubted that there would be any craftsmen available to fashion such a band as he had in mind.

Unbidden he thought of his father. Thranduil would be a problem. Yet Legolas knew that Lana was his—and no one or nothing would keep him from getting what he wanted. Not even his own father and king. He would cross that bridge when he came to it, but for now he needed to see Lana.

Dismissing Thranduil from his thoughts he conjured her up again. In his mind he saw Lana turn towards him with delight and love. Her hair was unbound and she was clad in filmy layers of pale blue and white. Around her was a faint glow of blue and gold. It sparkled and shimmered around her and his spirit was instantly attracted to it.

It was her _feä_.

Was this just a vision of his own creation? Or did he truly see her thusly? He didn't know, but he felt impatient to have her in his arms. If only to drown in her presence instead of the Call.

It was too late to send a missive to her. Messengers had already left for Minas Tirith. And it was Aragorn's plan to eradicate every vestige of evil from Ithilien before returning to the White City. And who knew how long that would take.

Perhaps Legolas could ride to the city and fetch her. He climbed a tree and rested high up in its arms. This time he turned his face towards the west, towards the city and Lana. _Soon. I will come for you, Melethril._

* * *

_Whew! I don't know about you, but I am so ready to reunite our lovers! But one cannot rush these things for fear of not doing justice to the story. But the war is over. Huzzah! _

_And I know, I know — a short chapter, but we've all had enough of battles right? I am eager to reach the conclusion and start the sequel! _

_Do message me if you catch typos. The downside of writing quickly are typos — and I just hate those things._

_As always thanks for reading._


	59. Fields of Cormallen

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.**

I don't own anything of Tolkien's Middle Earth. I just play there.

This chapter ended up being two long so it's turned into two separate chapters. Lucky you!

* * *

**Chapter 58: The Fields of Cormallen **

Morning Dew was aptly named. Her coat was dappled grey and she glistened in the sunshine as if bedewed with tiny flecks of glitter. She was a mild tempered horse with long delicate legs. Her gait was incredibly smooth and even, though Lana would never let Hasufel know that.

Her noble mount was miraculously alive, but still too injured to bear a rider. The good news was that he wouldn't be lame. The bad news was that he still limped and had to be carefully watched lest he did injure himself further. He was a boisterous animal. And he had been thrilled to see her.

He was kept in a penned area just north of the gate that held the remaining Rohan steeds. It was away from the battlefield. The scarred earth and broken remains of war machines were haunting — but more so was the awful sight of the dead bodies. With the army gone there were few to clean the field.

It stood to reason that since Gondor was in no way a horse country, they did not have the means to house a great number of mounts. Their stables were small and what horses the city did have were kept for soldiers and nobility only.

In all accounts Lana was neither nobility nor a citizen of Gondor. And she technically did not own Hasufel. She had decided though that she would find a way to purchase him. He was a brilliant horse and they had been through a lot together. She couldn't imagine giving him up. It was something she would discuss with Éowyn she decided.

But that would have to be later. There had been little patience to be found in her. The messengers had arrived only a day ago after four days hard riding. They delivered the joyful news: Sauron had been destroyed. His majesty King Elessar and company had survived. The news was like aloe on a burn. Lana finally could breath with ease again.

She, along with everyone else, had felt the earthquake that happened on March 25th. It rattled tableware, caused books to fall off shelves, and made even the tall spire of Ecthelion quiver like a tuning fork. Once the shaking had stopped the sky seemed to clear, as if someone had wiped away years of grim on a window and suddenly pure brilliant light shown through the polished glass.

All the nervous anxiety that had kept Lana on edge suddenly floated away. In its place was a calmness that was just as inexplicable as the former panic. It didn't take long for her to grow restless though. She was eager for news. So she had nearly jumped on the messengers when they arrived. But it was Faramir and Prince Imrahil who greeted them.

"The army pursues those left of the Easterlings and Southrons. The King has set up his pavilion in the field of Cormallen, but intends to make his way to the city once the final rebellions are subdued."

Lana leaned into Éowyn who was at her side. "Do you think they will let us ride out to them?"

Éowyn shrugged. "Perhaps, though I am certain they will be swift in returning."

But Lana couldn't wait that long. Her desire to see Legolas was too strong to be ignored. It took some heavy debating, bribing, and coercing but at last she was able to secure a mount and an escort to Cormallen.

That was when she had at last sought out Hasufel. She felt guilty for not seeking him sooner, but their reunion put a smile on both the Gondorians' and Rohirrim's faces.

"I apologize, my lady, but he is not up to the task of bearing anyone at this time." The current Horse Master had informed her.

And so she was saddled up with Morning Dew. Lana made much of the horse taking time to curry her at the end of each day. It was the least she could do, she thought. They rode hard and long. And it was trying on both rider and horse — especially after all the trauma her body had been through. But Lana refused to ask for a slower pace. Indeed she was the one pushing her escort to go faster.

Today they would reach the encampment her escort said. Excitement coursed through Lana and she felt the ridiculous urge to primp before entering the camp. Three nights spent on the cold earth had returned her to the wild-woman state. She did not want to greet her friends looking like a deranged lunatic. So she had called out to the other riders, and placating them with smiles and self-defacing comments she got them to agree to a break around midday.

"Do not stray far, my lady," the captain of their group said. "The Dark Lord might be vanquished, but there is a reason the army still scours the forests and hills."

She nodded, and shouldering her backpack she made for the riverbank. Washing was out of the question. The water was painfully cold. April had arrived at last though, and the sun was warm. Lana did what she could with a hand cloth. She had the wherewithal to pack the small bar of lanoline soap before she left the city. She also managed to dig up the last remaining scented oil that Éowyn had given to her in Edoras.

Uncorking the little vial she pour the oil into her hands. The fragrance of roses wafted up to her nose and she inhaled deeply. It was pleasant but roses always conjured up memories of church shrines. Without fail, a memory a small grotto chapel out in the countryside in Ireland drifted up to her consciousness.

Someone had left a bouquet of roses before the tiny statue of the Virgin Mary. They were pink roses, and dew had lain heavily upon their petals.

"Why do people leave roses out here?" She had asked her mother.

"It's a way to honor the Virgin Mary."

"But _why_ roses?"

Her mother had smiled then. "That's because they are her flower. You'll know when she's close by when you smell roses."

Lana wasn't sure if she believed those words now, but that memory had stayed with her. Smelling the rose oil caused her to feel bittersweet. Thoughts about the Virgin inevitably made her think of her mother. How she missed her! She didn't like to dwell on it though. In some ways it was far more painful than thinking about Aidan. She chuckled humorlessly at herself.

She supposed, in a roundabout way, that roses made her think of her mother. _She would like Legolas,_ Lana mused. _And he would have liked her too._ Her heart ached to know that they would never meet.

However, thoughts about her elf made her lips curve. The first thing she wanted to do was kiss him senseless — and she didn't care who saw them. She grinned.

Moving fast now, she combed her hair and splashed water on her face.

o0o

They had to take a barge across the river and around a tall island called Cair Andros. Several ships were docked on the island. Their banners were caught high in the air and fluttered. She barely noted the insignias.

Lana was practically bouncing on her toes. It was unfitting for a woman her age and she forced herself to hold some dignity. But it was hard. She was positively fizzing like a soda.

The escort knew by now that she was well acquainted with their uncrowned king, and as such had given her some deference. However, they could see her excitement and they hid their smiles behind their work.

The camp came into view. It was massive. Neat rows of tents were pitched on the upper banks so the fluctuating tide of the river would not flood them. Lana could easily pick out the Rohirric camp and the Gondorian camp. Though the men did mingle, their tents were divided along an invisible line.

She saw the various comings and goings of men at work. There was an impromptu forge where the clanging of beaten metal rang out. Several large corrals of horses existed in both camps. Large open fires showed wild game roasting. The scent of it climbed above the sodden smell of the river. It was quite an operation.

They docked. A young solider scampered down the bank to the make shift port. He was quick to offer his hand to Lana.

"Careful, my lady, the ground is treacherous here."

She smiled at him gratefully. "Thanks,"

The mud was indeed thick and she held her riding skirts high. The eager soldier did not leave her side even after his assistance was no longer needed. He chatted amiably to her and was impressed when she said she knew the Fellowship, including Frodo the Nine-Fingered.

"Nine-Fingered?" She parroted in surprise.

"Did you not know?" He asked. "The Halfling lost one of his fingers. Bitten off I heard, by a nasty creature."

Lana grimaced. "Really? That's horrible!"

She thought back to what she had heard but she couldn't recall the messengers saying anything about Frodo loosing a finger. Although, given the state of her mind she could have very well missed that detail. Curious now she hoped to have the tale from the hobbit himself, provided that he would speak to her. They hadn't ever been on friendly terms.

Reaching the top of the bank Lana looked about. The entire army was abuzz with activity and she halted unsure of which way to go.

"Lady Lana!"

Turning she saw the proud figure of Éomer come striding up. Immediately her face broke into a smile.

"Éomer!" She left her youthful guide behind and met the Rohirric king halfway. She barely caught herself before she hugged him. That would not have been appropriate, especially in front of all the curious eyes that watched them.

Instead she did her best to curtsy in her riding habit. "It is wonderful to see you, your highness," she intoned joyfully.

When she rose she saw Éomer smirking at her. "Surely there is no need for such formality between us, my lady."

She smiled sheepishly. "Perhaps not, but I wouldn't want to be the cause for gossip."

Éomer's dark eyes glinted with amusement. "You are the only woman in the camp. You will be gossip regardless."

Lana rolled her eyes. _Fantastic_.

Chuckling Éomer reached forward. Sweeping up her hand, he kissed it and then tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. He dismissed her escort with a look.

"You are here to see your friends, no doubt. I had half expected to see my sister with you, though." He began guiding her through the camp.

"I had thought she would want to come too, but she decided to stay in the city."

"Hm. No doubt she stays so she can be near that Steward." He chuckled at Lana's affected innocent look. "There is no need to be secretive. I am her brother after all. I saw how she looked at the man."

Lana smirked. "She could have done worse."

Éomer snorted. "We shall see. But that will be for later. Come, I know your companions will be astonished to see you, and I do not wish to miss the looks on their faces."

There was a fluttering in her stomach as she suddenly felt nervous. What _would_ they think? She remembered then her promise to Aragorn to stay in the citadel, but the war was over now. So she should be in the clear. Right?

Well there was nothing for it now. She was here. If she had to endure Aragorn's displeasure then she would. She just hoped that Legolas wouldn't be angry. _He shouldn't be,_ she thought resolutely. _He'll be thrilled._ However the fluttering didn't leave her gut.

The Fellowship's camp was further up a hill. At the top was a large pavilion of black and white. An elegant banner hung before the covered entrance, and before that was a rather impressive chair. It seemed too nice to bring on a campaign, and Lana had to wonder where it came from.

Her heart sped up as Aragorn precipitously appeared with Gandalf at his side. Looking up them she thought that they seemed changed somehow. Gandalf appeared the same as ever, but there was a lightness to him that hadn't been there before. As for the Ranger, he no longer looked the part of a ruffian. Rather he was garbed in fine black cloth, accented with silver and white. His face was washed and his hair was clean and it shown sable with minute flecks of silver.

His Lothlórien cloak was pinned at his shoulders, but that was the only bit of clothing she recognized. He looked completely foreign to her. And he moved with an air of confidence that Lana hadn't seen before. He was in all essence, kingly. Her lips parted seeing him.

Gandalf was the first to spot her and he must have said something because Aragorn abruptly turned her way. She felt Éomer lightly pat her hand as if in reassurance. She hadn't realized she needed it.

"Here now," Gandalf said, his eyes light as his voice. "My heart told me you could not stay away."

Lana smiled suddenly bashful.

"Indeed, Lady Lana has only just arrived from across the river." Éomer said with humor. "Seems she could not wait to be bidden. A more headstrong lady you will not find, unless it be my sister; yet she is not here, and the Lady Lana is. Make of that what you will."

Aragorn eyed her with that keen glance of his, but the corner of his lips quirked. Catching it, Lana smirked.

"Did I not have your promise to stay in the citadel?"

Lana bit her lip and shrugged. "Yeah…You did."

Aragorn sighed and looked towards the sky. "Can I never trust your word then?"

Lana grinned then. "You can trust that I will _always_ show up."

They group laughed and Lana moved forward to hug Aragorn. This time she didn't give a damn about propriety. He didn't hesitate to return the embrace.

"Foolish woman," he muttered in her ear.

Lana laughed and shoved him playfully. "I'm too old to change."

While she was thrilled beyond words to see Aragorn and Gandalf, her eyes darted about to catch sight of her beloved archer. However, she missed the mischievous glint that flashed across Aragorn's face.

"Come, there are refreshments in the tent." He held out his hand to her.

"I think I shall call on our hobbits." Gandalf announced and winking at Lana he moved down the rear side of the hill.

Éomer took up the offer though and the three of them moved into the tent. Lana looked around, duly impressed.

"Did you carry all this stuff with you?" She asked looking around. There were tables, carpets, and collapsible shelf. There were chests and a stand for armor. Lanterns hung from the crossbeams over head, but they were unlit. The sides of the tent were rolled up so the light and air could pass through a gauzy material. It was sheer enough to let the light in, but obscured the people within. Towards the back a thick curtain hung that separated the front half of the tent from the rear.

Aragorn chuckled at her wide-eyed look and guided her to a table. Then he turned and reached for a decanter. King or no, he was not above serving his friends.

"Indeed, these things were carried and then deposited here before we made our final march to the Black Gate."

Lana whistled in approval. "You're traveling in style now, my friend."

Éomer chuckled and leaned forward on the table. "Surely he's earned it, don't you think?"

Accepting a glass of water Lana leaned back in her seat. "Of course. It's a definite — but well deserved — step up."

Aragorn shook his head at them both. "Such finery is not required, but it does make living rough a bit easier." He smirked.

She looked him over thoroughly, noting just how handsome he was. Truly Aragorn was a king of men. She had seen glimpses of it before, but now…her expression softened.

"Look at you," she murmured. "I don't know if I've ever been more proud or honored to meet you."

Aragorn shared a look with her that held wells of meaning. They had to be aware of their words for Éomer did not know of her true origins, and they spoke with caution. But Aragorn and Lana had been through enough now that words weren't necessary.

The three of them talked candidly, sharing their joy. Lana listened avidly to everything they had to say, but it was Éomer who was the most loquacious. And he seemed keen on entertaining her. Catching his verve Lana bantered with him, although she kept glancing towards the tent entrance. Finally she could no longer keep it in.

"Where is Legolas? And Gimli? And everyone else? I didn't come all this way to drink water at a table under a tent, you know."

Éomer tossed his head back and laughed and even Aragorn chuckled. "No? I take offense at that."

Lana wrinkled her nose. "I don't care," she sniffed. "I want to see everyone else."

"We would be happy to help reunite you with the rest of the Fellowship." A new voice said from the tent entrance.

Lana's eyes grew wide and she turned around to see the twin faces of Elrond's sons. Her heart was in her throat from being started but she swallowed it back and gave the twins a fasley-wry look. She wasn't sure who had spoken and eyed them speculatively. They scrutinized her just as.

"We know where they are, except one Mirkwood Prince." The one on the left said. "He seems to be off communing with the trees."

"As one does when a Wood Elf." The twin interjected.

"Elladan, Elrohir, join us," Éomer said with more delight than necessary. "The Lady Lana has been telling us all that has transpired since we decamped from Minas Tirith."

"There isn't much to tell," she said, annoyed with the Rohirric king's over jovial invitation. With these two brothers here she wouldn't be escaping any time soon.

As ever they seemed keen on examining her. The feeling of being toyed with was not pleasant. She shot a sideways glance to Aragorn, but he did not seem at all concerned by the twins. Annoyed she sat back in her chair and watched.

"Ah, but there is always more to a story than one might think." One of the twins said to her. He came around her seat and peered into her glass. "Water, Estel? Surely your dear friend deserves better."

"Unless you have run out of wine." The other twin retorted from across the table. "I wouldn't be surprised with Thranduilion near. Did you know the Wood Elves penchant for wine, my dear?"

Lana crossed her arms and lifted a brow. If she didn't know any better, she would say that they all were purposely detaining her. She glanced again at Aragorn. He was straight-faced but there was a mischievous light in his eyes that made her glare at him.

"No doubt that is a pan-elven quality." She deadpanned.

"Pan-elven?" The elf behind her said as he smoothly seated himself on her right. "I'm afraid that I don't understand you."

Lana rolled the stem of her goblet between her fingers. "It means you _all_ are heavy drinkers."

A snort from across the table made them look at the other twin. "She has your character down, Elrohir."

Elrohir glared at his brother before looking back at Lana with a curious smile. "Perhaps she does." He took her hand then, still bandaged though no longer splinted, and held it up. "She has a clever eye, I think." And he pressed his lips to her hand, keeping his gaze fixed on hers.

Lana raised a brow and neatly retrieved her hand. "Aragorn," she said — and this was followed by a chorus of remarks on how informal she was with the uncrowned king. Ignoring them all she continued, "Is this my punishment for disobeying you?"

He chuckled and sat back in his own chair. "I don't know what you mean."

She snorted. "Yeah, right."

"You find us boorish then?" Elladan said slyly. "Or just my brother. I wouldn't fault you for that observation. He's about as bright as a rock." He grinned wickedly at his mirror image and leaned back with his fingers laced behind his head.

The table laughed at the poor elf's expense.

"Speak for yourself brother. It is known the world over that you are about as engaging as a tree stump, and less pretty too."

Lana watched this volley with growing humor. At one point she had to cover her smile behind a casually raised hand — but the twins saw it nonetheless.

"Ah, she laughs at us brother." Elladan quipped.

"Didn't Estel tell you it was perilous to do so?" Elrohir said, leaning into her space.

Refusing the bait she shrugged and sipped her water. "He actually never mentioned you to me ever."

The twins pinned the would-be king with stares of astonishment and mock-outrage. "After all the years chasing you as a child and teaching you everything we know, you fail to give your teachers their due acknowledgement?"

Aragorn rolled his eyes, not at all pleased to be at the center of the brothers' focus. "There was hardly the time for reminiscing."

"And that's hardly an excuse." Elladan jabbed. "Although your manners seemed to have slipped on other areas as well."

"You mock the King of Gondor?" Éomer said in amazement, though laugher was in his eyes. "You are braver than I."

Elladan lifted a brow. "I do not fear him. Indeed he is barely into his adulthood as far as I can see."

Aragorn crossed his arms. "Oh truly. Such a capricious youth I am." Lana and Éomer snickered. "What other transgression do you feel I have committed then?"

"Why, the secret of this sweet lady! Had I not the fortune to stumble upon her with the Woodland Prince in Minas Tirith then I would know naught of her. And imagine my surprise when I discovered she has travelled with you for some long months. For shame to hide such a lady!"

"Here, here!" Éomer rejoined. "I said much the same in Edoras."

Lana rolled her eyes. "You all are ridiculous. Honestly. Aragorn — let's blow this joint. I've had enough banter to last me until next year."

He laughed while the twins pouted. Éomer snorted into his goblet. Before Aragorn could make any reply, Elrohir snatched up her hand again.

"Let me make amends then, my lady. I shall guide you to your friends, and perchance we will discover where that pesky Prince of Mirkwood has gone off to."

He didn't give her the chance to say no. Pulling her up he tucked her against his side and led her out of the tent. They were followed by a chorus of good-natured teasing and taunts. Despite her annoyance, Lana couldn't help but smile, although she did feel the urge to shove Elrohir down the hill. The whole scene reminded her of times back home with her family — and her brother.

With Elrohir guiding her down a path that led into a grove Lana paused to admire the wood about them. Sunlight filtered down in spontaneous shafts of green and gold. Flowers of all sorts bloomed gaily, and there was a heady perfume in the air. No longer timid, life was springing back.

"It is truly breathtaking around here."

She felt Elrohir's intrepid gaze upon her. "You speak truly. In days of old, before my time, these woods were once quite fair. But they have suffered much in the years under the Shadow. But no more."

He inhaled deeply as if breathing in all the life of the earth. Lana peered up at him. Tall, lithe, and with a strong handsome face, Elrohir would make any woman's heartbeat. Even though hers belonged to Legolas only, she could appreciate the stunning figure he cut. But what she found truly compelling was this brief unguarded instant.

For once he wasn't teasing or joking. He was just himself. In this split moment, Lana saw a glimpse of the infinitely complex creature he was. The years he had seen sat in his gaze. It was clear he had witnessed many terrible things. And that was why his gaze looked suddenly hazy with appreciation. He knew how to enjoy the beauty life had to offer — for life was made all the more meaningful when death haunted it.

"I'm glad you and your brother survived the battle," she said suddenly.

Elrohir looked down at her keenly. "Indeed? And why is that?" His grey eyes seemed to hold more wisdom than she could ever hope to gain.

Her brows drew together slightly. "Why? Because you are clearly family to Aragorn, and despite being a jerk at times, I can see that you are good at heart." She grinned sideways at him.

He chuckled. "Fine praise, but are you certain of your words? Perhaps it's all an act I put on."

Lana laughed. "If it is, then you're no more an ass than my own brother."

This time her elven escort threw back his head and laughed. "Such words from your pretty lips! Fair you might be, Lady, but your mouth is as foul as a dwarf's."

She sent him a sly look. "You have no idea."

Still grinning he looked at her inquisitively. "So you have a brother then?" She nodded. "Where is he?"

Lana looked ahead, pretending to admire the scenery. "He's at home. We're twins you know," she glanced up at him with a knowing look.

She was careful to keep her tone the same as before, but Elrohir was too perceptive to not notice the slight tension that ran through her at the mention of "home." His natural curiosity grew but he sensed he was treading on loose ground. He would have to proceed with caution if he wished to have his questions answered.

No doubt he wouldn't have the chance to ask anything once Legolas saw her. Best to get as many questions answered now.

"Ah, it makes sense now." He caught her gaze and winked. "Tell me, were you the first born or last?"

She snorted. "You make sound so fatalistic."

"Fate has a way of giving meaning to life."

"How profound." Lana rolled her eyes. She met his waiting gaze with a lifted brow. "Last."

"Ha! I knew I liked you. We are kindred spirits."

"Are we now?"

"Undoubtedly."

As they meandered down the hill the riot of life assaulted their eyes. The colors of the flowers, new leaves, and the sky were so vivid! Lana felt like she had walked into a living Monet painting. The heady scent of spring assaulted them, and it made every cell in her body feel alive. Pulling from Elrohir's grasp she stooped to pluck some flowers. They were white and smelled like honey suckle.

"What is it that you see in the Mirkwood Prince?" Elrohir asked abruptly.

Lana faced him in askance. "What do you mean 'what do I see' in him? What kind of question is that?"

He grinned, lowering his chin a bit. "An honest one."

Wrinkled her nose and sniffed, putting on the airs of a noblewoman. "That's a personal question, I think."

"Does that mean you do not intend to answer it?" He said moving up behind her.

She quickly put space between them. "No. And what's your deal, anyway? I thought elves were reserved and effete."

Elrohir cocked his head to one side and looked her over slowly. "We are."

"Obviously you're the exception to the rule then." She quipped and waited for him to lead the way again.

He moved to her side once more and looked down at her. To her credit she didn't back away this time. Even though she wanted to. Instead she stood toe-to-toe with the ebony-haired elf. It was like playing chicken — and she refused to lose.

"I might be. Although, it seems to me that you have met very few elves."

"And it seems to me that you're up to something." She puckishly tucked a bloom into the neck of his tunic, the patted his chest like one would a pet. "There. Now you can be pretty too."

He grinned, not at all put off by her behavior. "Indeed. Come. Your friends are waiting. And no doubt Legolas senses you are close."

It was an odd thing to say and Lana flicked a baffled look up at the elf. He was confusing — or rather she wasn't sure how to respond to him. He was very forward for an elf, but then he was right. She hadn't met many elves. Perhaps he wasn't the exception. Either way, she found that if she treated him like she did her own brother it made him a bit more…_manageable_.

She didn't like how he held her close though. It wasn't anything overtly inappropriate. In fact, had anyone seen them together it would look like he was merely escorting her. However, Lana could feel how he kept a firm hold on her; his hand pressed against hers, which was tucked into the crook of his arm. Occasionally his thumb would brush across the back of her hand.

It sent alarm bells ringing in her head. Thankfully they weren't alone in each other's presence for very long. A ring of tents appeared very soon and Lana saw Merry and Pippin along with Gimli. The hobbits gave a shout and Gimli rose up with a broad grin that was visible through his bushy beard.

Lana pulled from Elrohir's grasp and flew into the arms of her friends. She knelt down to better embrace them.

"Lana! You're here!" Pippin cheered.

"When did you arrive?" Merry said at the same moment.

Bombarded with questions it several moments before the confused excitement died down. Behind it all stood Elrohir, observing. A faint smirk lingered on his face. Lana gave him a pointed look but he merely lifted a brow. _He sees too much._

"You seem to collect elves like ladies collect flowers, lass," Gimli jibbed.

"Ha-ha, very funny." She retorted dryly, then she leaned in close and whispered. "It's like trying to get rid of a shadow. I can't shake him."

Gimli chuckled, but Elrohir huffed. "Honestly, my lady, one would think you _want_ to be rid of me."

"I do." She said pleasantly. "You are not the elf I came here to see — no offense."

The hobbits laughed along with Gimli. Lana seemed to be back to her spunky self. Aside from her bandaged right hand, she appeared practically healed. The color had returned to her cheeks and her eyes were clear and sharp.

Despite the ribbing, Elrohir lingered. He knew the hobbits and dwarf from Imladris and so was welcome in their gathering. Lana wasn't sure how she felt about this but all that mattered was finding Legolas.

"Wandered off into the trees," Gimli informed her. "He's scheming."

Lana lifted a brow. "Scheming? About what?"

"I'll leave it to him to tell you," Gimli grunted.

"Fine. Which direction did he go?"

Pippin pointed to the south. Lana rose and promised to return. There were stories to hear, but she wanted to wait until everyone was gathered. She managed to get ten steps away before Elrohir caught up with her again. Annoyed she glared at him.

"I don't need an escort anymore."

He shrugged, unperturbed by her prickly tone. "Perhaps. But there are still dangers in the wood though the Dark Lord is vanquished. It would not do your prince any good to have to rescue you from some unfortunate fate."

Lana wrinkled her nose but pushed on ahead. She didn't like having Elrohir as her shadow any more, but at least he wasn't holding on to her now. Studying the forest she tried to determine which way to go. But elves don't leave tracks. She sighed and put her hands on her hips.

"Would you like for me to find him for you?"

Lana didn't deign to look at him. "Unless you are Sherlock Holmes, I doubt you _can_ find him."

He moved around so that he stood in her line of vision. His hands were held loosely behind his back as he smirked.

"Is this…Sherlock Holmes, a great tracker from your home?"

Lana couldn't believe she was even having this conversation. "He's the best — he's on a super-human level."

"But he is a man?"

Lana gave him a dry look. "Well duh."

Slowly a feral grin appeared on Elrohir's lips. "I can track better than any man — Aragorn included."

And he proceeded to prove it.

* * *

_Well consider that part one of this chapter. Read on for part two!_

_Thanks for reading! _


	60. Primavera

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.**

I don't own anything of Tolkien's Middle Earth. I just play there.

* * *

**Chapter 59: Primavera**

Legolas stood high up in the branches of a stout oak tree. Its vast limbs were long and reached high. Greenish white blooms covered the branches. The world was in full spring now, and nature seemed eager to make up for the centuries of repression and abuse. It was heartening to see.

When not attending Aragorn or spending time with the hobbits, Legolas was scouting the forests of Ithilien. The woods intrigued him and they soothed his soul. He wished Lana were here, but until then he would make do with the trees. They had the power to push the sea from his mind.

Since that night when the sea-song struck him, he had found it increasingly difficult to ignore the call. It was like an infection — or at least what he thought an infection would be like. It manifested in his idle thoughts and haunted his dreams. He hadn't really slept in days lest the alluring sound of waves infiltrated his mind.

Keeping busy was the best thing he could do. Mentally he made a list of what needed to be done to heal the earth. He knew the Silvan elves had more woodcraft than he, and he hoped he could convince some of his father's subjects to move south. It would be hard. The Silvans were fiercely loyal to their home.

_Home. _He had to wonder: what had happened at home since he left? It would be too soon for the news of their great victory to reach the great Woodland realm — but then his people were keenly attuned to the earth. There was a chance that they would know it already.

Rubbing his palm over a stout branch he tuned into the tree's vitality. It would be no simple task to begin life in the woods here. If he was merely taking a contingent of warriors then it would be no problem, but in essence he desired to set up a colony. That would take much more preparation and time. And he was unsure if his father would approve of such a venture.

What with the introduction of Lana, the Call, and now this new plan, Legolas knew it would be hard on his father. In everyway, Legolas would be leaving him. But it was time to strike out on his own. In fact, he was long over due. Many of his friends had already married and had families of their own. Others — though only a few — had even left Arda for Valinor. And where was Legolas during all this? At his father's beck and call.

He had bourn it with what grace he could muster. He had done his best — had fought for his realm, sought to protect it, preserve it. But no more. He was changed. There was no way he could go back to simply being the Prince of Mirkwood: an empty title in all essence, unless his father suddenly decided to take ship. And Legolas doubted that day was near. In fact he wondered if his father would ever leave these shores.

His lips thinned.

Descending the tree he leapt to the forest floor. Affectionately he patted the truck and he felt a sluggish response of delight. The trees here were quiet — their voices soft. They had retreated into themselves, but they were responding to him readily enough. This gave him hope for his plan.

He was about to walk on when he stopped suddenly. Poised like a true creature of the forest, he did not move. His eyes scanned the woodlands, ears catching the faintest of sounds. It wasn't a noise or movement that halted him though. Closing his eyes he concentrated on the feeling.

_There! _It was a tug on the line between him and his love. He smiled. Convinced now that she felt this connection between them, his heart flew to hers. If only she were here! Thoughts of what he wished to do warmed his belly.

Relaxing he took another step but came to second abrupt halt. This time his ears picked up the sound of annoyed conversation. But it wasn't the words that interested him, but the voices. Swiveling around he moved through the trees unerringly.

Breaking into a small glade he halted on the edge of the tree line. His heart raced. Within moments she appeared. Stepping from out of the shade into the bright sunlight her golden hair flashed like yellow wheat. Her dark winged brows were drawn together in annoyed amusement. The deep blue eyes were filled a long-suffering expression.

She wore her riding habit. The hem was muddied, and she looked slightly travel worn, but by the Valar she was stunning! He felt like he was seeing her for the first time.

She turned her head and sighted him. The joy that shown on her face was radiant.

"Legolas!"

She bounded forward and he met her halfway sweeping her up into his arms and twirling her around. They laughed, both oblivious to her escort.

Setting her back on her feet his hand instantly found her hair. The spring sun illuminated her dark eyes and they glittered with what looked like a sheen of joyful tears. Her hands found his face and before he could say anything at all she kissed him. Hard.

His hand instantly fisted in her hair while his other arm wrapped firmly round her waist. A current ran through them that made his nerve endings sing in sympathetic harmony with hers. Though his eyes were closed he saw a light as bright as day behind his lids.

Only a not so discreet cough shook them from their self-involvement. Slowly lifting his lips from hers, Legolas glanced up to acknowledge the other. His arm around Lana's waist tightened a fraction.

"Elrohir," he said rather calmly for one who had just his breath stolen away.

"Prince Legolas," Elrohir's ever-present smirk seemed all the more smug. "I found your lady wandering the encampment and sought to rescue her from the rapscallions that are the Gondorian and Rohirric armies. In truth, I know not why you let her wander so."

"Oh do shut up, Elrohir." Lana jabbed. "Don't listen to him. He's an ass." She said to Legolas.

He looked down at her in shock then his chest started vibrating.

"Insults, my lady?" Elrohir said drolly. "And after I rescued you from boring table talk too! I take back my previous words, Legolas — I have no idea why you find her attractive."

"If only you spoke the truth, but as ever your tongue is full of wit and sarcasm, and not to be believed." Legolas replied.

Elrohir shook his head. "It seems you two are meant for each other. But do not forget, my lady — you and I share a special bond too." He winked then about-faced and left them alone.

Legolas looked down at her with mock accusation. "Bond? What bond?"

Lana flicked a dismisive hand. "He thinks we're best friends or something because we're both twins."

"Ah,"

Still holding her close, Legolas threaded his fingers through her hair. Amazed that she was here at all. Thoughts of trees, Mirkwood, and the Sea all faded away as he focused on the woman in his arms. She leaned into his touch, eyes hooding. Her lips curved in that way he loved so well. At last he inquired on her arrival.

"There's not a whole lot to say about it. The war is over, so I came to you. I had no intention of just waiting in that boring citadel."

Legolas lifted a brow. "And you broke your word to come here?"

She shoved him lightly and pulled from his touch with a smirk. "Don't even start. Aragorn already punished me by subjecting me to the Wonder Twins."

Legolas lifted a brow. But his delight couldn't be repressed. In all honesty he was glad she was here. It saved him the trouble of sending a letter to her, or fetching her himself. She was good at returning to him. It was a quality he didn't want to stifle.

Unable to stand not touching her, he came up behind her and drew her against his chest. She laid her hands on his arms and leaned back into the embrace.

"I am pleased you are here, _Melethril."_

"Are you now?" She murmured and leaned her head back so she could look up at him.

He nuzzled the side of her brow, lips whispering on temple, then down further to her cheekbone. His hold on her tightened and he felt the familiar stirrings of his body in response to her proximity.

"Aye. It makes it easier to have what I want."

Her hand snaked up and caressed his face. "And what do you want?"

Eyes roving over her, his lips curved into a smile that made her breathless.

_"Merin le."_

_I want you._

He bent over her and kissed her lips. She hummed in delight then gasped as his hands moved to cup her breasts through the thick riding habit she wore. The many layers between his palms and her skin didn't make a difference. The touch still made her quiver. Exhilarated that he had this effect on her, he squeezed her lightly then rubbed small circles over her concealed nipples.

"Legolas," she gasped between kisses. "What are you trying to do to me?"

Unable to stop the smile that tugged on his lips, he turned her about in a single motion. This time his hands clamped around her wrists and he exerted a gentle but incessant pressure. She stepped backwards until a tree stopped her retreat. Releasing her wrists he transferred his grip to her hips. The entire time he kissed and teased her lips.

"What am I doing to you?" He murmured, his face a scant breath away from hers. "I think it fairly obvious." He pressed himself against her. "I am loving you, my dear Lana."

She groaned and fisted her hands in his tunic. "If you keep this up, I'll have no choice but to desecrate this meadow with you."

Humor rumbled in his chest. "Think of it more as a blessing — honoring the return of spring."

"Ha!"

In the end Legolas did slow their pace. It was difficult. Having Lana in his arms was such a surprise that he lost control of himself. With much petulance he reeled himself back. He wanted to do nothing more than make love to her right then. He could feel his _feä_ calling for hers. They were both breathing heavily by the end of it.

She peered up at him, her eyes a deep wellspring. In them he saw layer upon layer of emotion — first and foremost was love. It triumphed over all the rest in her gaze, but the others added a fine finesse, like a fragrant aftertaste from a very good wine.

"You don't know how happy I am to see you alive — and in one piece," she added, smirking.

Legolas grinned. "Indeed, my Cairnmel, it would not due to return to you in any less than my original state."

Her grin was brilliant and he loved seeing it. Even more, he loved how he could make her smile. Her hand stroked his face and he leaned into her touch. Then snatching up her hand he pressed a kiss into her palm.

She pressed into him and wrapped her arms around him tightly. They stood like that for several long moments before she spoke again.

"As much as I would like to stay here with only you, I promised the hobbits and Gimli that I would return. I want to hear _everything._"

"Are you certain of that, Cairnmel? The tale is dark."

"Need you ask that question?" She pulled back and gave him a dry look.

Lips quirking he fingered the loose hair back behind her ear. "No indeed. _Rawen nín." My lioness._

o0o

There was feasting that night. Wild game with wild vegetables, the best was served to the King of Gondor and his companions. Lana licked the fat off her fingers feeling full and decadent. There was wine and ale, which surprised her, and she drank her fill of each.

As she observed the merriment, she couldn't but help marveling at the change in her companions. The Shadow hadn't merely left the world; it had left their souls. Laughter and cheer resounded through the encampment. Musicians and minstrels played and songs were sung — many of them turning bawdy as time and the number of drinks grew.

However, she was not offended. If anything she snickered along with the rest, trying hard to not burst into full out laughter. Only after the sun had set did she and the Fellowship, joined by Éomer, the Dúnedain, and the sons of Elrond, remove themselves to their private camp behind the King's hill.

Lana sat sandwiched between Merry and Gimli and listened with avid attention to the stories they told. She wondered at the odds they had faced. Looking on Frodo and Sam with renewed respect and borderline numinous awe she felt some measure of pride to have witnessed part of their journey. She hoped they would take the time to sit down with her so she might record the rest of their stories. But for now, she just sat back and soaked it all in.

One other thing she did remember to bring was her sketchbook. Sitting back she drew as she listened to stories and conversations around her. Merry and Gimli were regularly checking her progress as she shaded and shadowed. This time she wasn't so reticent about her sketching. She wanted to capture this night perfectly she murmured to them.

Several times her eyes caught the impish gaze of Elrohir, and the equally puckish glance of Elladan. The brothers were boastful, and made certain she heard just how much they changed the tide in Aragorn's favor — of course they spoke nonsense. Still she laughed and effected to look appropriately impressed.

Legolas stood by Aragorn. Whenever their eyes met across the campfire, Lana felt everything else fade away. Her toes curled in her boots and a heat started in her pelvis that only spread everywhere. Blushing she would quickly divert her gaze back down to her sketchbook.

The moon was high and well on its way towards the west by the time their party broke apart. Lana covered her yawn with a hand. It had been a very long but gloriously wonderful day. Legolas' booted feet appeared in her line of vision and she looked up to see his hand hovering before her face. Smiling she allowed him to pull her up right.

"Come, there is something I would show you."

They were one of the last to leave the fire, but the eyes of Aragorn and the twins watched them disappear.

Complacent, Lana snugged into Legolas' side and followed him. "Where are we going?"

He glanced sideways down at her. "Not far."

"Well that's good. I'm sleepy." She intoned.

He smiled and wrapped his arm around her waist, then kissed the crown of her head. It felt so good to have him near, to walk with him, and to know that the strife was over. There was a future for them now. Dreams she hardly thought possible were now within her reach.

Legolas drew her further into the trees. The ground began to slop downwards again and he gripped her securely. The moonlight filtered down in shafts of silver. Around them the creatures of the night awoke and moved hesitantly from their beds. A silent owl winged by and eyed them solemnly. Hidden in the undergrowth a fox twitched its nose at them before darting into the shadows. Crickets chirped their melodies.

The world seemed touched with magic and Lana felt like she was in a dream. Intoxicated with wine, food, and good company she felt all her inhibitions float away like champagne bubbles. Legolas glowed before her and she wondered again at it. The luminosity was faint, more like a sheen of gloss, as if he had been dipped in some sort of reflective powder or something. But it only appeared when the lighting was just right. It was enough to make her question whether or not he was actually glowing.

But it didn't matter. He was gorgeous. And she wanted him. As if hearing her thoughts his eyes met hers. She felt the air between them hum — or it might have just been the wine affecting her senses. Either way she felt deliciously happy.

"Watch your step here," he helped her over a patch of dense undergrowth.

Lana discovered herself in a small grotto. A small stream trickled down the side of a rock wall that sheltered the space. It wasn't quite a cave; more like a hallow. Tenacious plants grew from the rock and hung down the sides. A trailing vine with white blossoms trailed over one portion of the rock wall. The smell was distinctively honeysuckle.

Lana didn't hesitate to stick her nose into the vines. She heard Legolas chuckle behind her. Flashing him a grin from over her shoulder she spoke.

"As a kid in California, we had a large honeysuckle vine. It grew by our front door. It was so big that it started growing up the side of our house. Each year I would wait for the blooms to come. I'd leave my window open at night so I could smell them as I fell asleep." Her eyes grew distant as she dwelled on the fond memories.

"Aidan and I would pluck the blossoms and sip the nectar out of them." And she did just that — picking a flower and bringing it to her lips. Legolas watched her keenly. She couldn't stop her lips from quirking.

"Stop staring at me like that!" She laughed.

Legolas cocked his head and adopted an innocent look. "How am I looking at you?"

She lifted a brow. "You like you are going to eat me." She stated baldly.

His grin was downright undomesticated. The grotto was not very big and she had nowhere to run — not that she wanted to. Legolas pinned her against the honeysuckle and began to sip from her lips. While not overtly aggressive, he made certain that she felt his strength and passion. The heat that had pooled between her thighs earlier jumped up in temperature.

It still amazed her how innocent he was when it came to love. But that didn't stop him. In fact, with each encounter he seemed to be growing exponentially proficient.

"Your lips alone would sustain me, _Melethril."_ He whispered huskily.

He nipped her lips again before slowly giving her some space. Lana looked up at him and shook her head.

"And you'll take the life right out of me if you keep this up." Panting her smile returned. "Enough of that now. Is this the place you wanted to show me?"

He nodded. "I discovered it only this morning."

Lana looked around admiring it. "It's truly beautiful. In fact all of Ithilien that I have seen has been breathtaking. And this forest survived growing so near to Mordor?"

He nodded. "A testament to its strength. Though it was harmed deeply."

She nodded. Images of desecrated forests, broken land, and pollution came to mind. While she knew modern machinery wasn't present here, she could imagine well the scarring the earth had taken.

Legolas' words broke her thoughts. "It came to me, an idea — I would have your thoughts on it."

He lowered himself and beckoned her to join him on the ground. Before she could sit next to him, he pulled her into his lap. He smiled at her. His hand smoothed her hair and he kissed her temple.

"I intend to bring some of my kin from the north to Ithilien and cleanse the forests here."

Lana nodded thoughtfully. "That's a good idea."

Legolas bent his head so he could see her face. "Do you like it?"

She nodded again. "Yes. I think it's a wonderful thing to do. Rebuild and restore after war — it's the best thing anyone can do. How would you go about it though?"

They sat there for some time as Legolas detailed his plans he had so far. He revealed his concerns over what his father might think. But Lana reminded him of what he already knew. The decisions he made were his alone.

_And hers._

His heart sped up as they left the grotto. There was one more thing he wished to show her. Drawing her through a thicket he led her up a small rise. The trees parted and Lana gasped. He smiled and watched the delight and wonder manifest on her face.

Before them the land stretched out for miles, but what made this spot even more magnificent was the hundred-foot drop. They stood on top of a high ridge. From here they could see for miles. The mountains were cloaked in silver as if the Valar themselves were blessing these once ravaged lands. A line of sparkling white snaked through the landscape — some unnamed creek that rushed its way to the Anduin.

Overhead the vault of heaven gleamed with stars. The moon hung low in the western horizon, so its light didn't detract from the shimmering cloak of celestial orbs. A thick band of stars, the Girdle of Varda, was visible.

The light of the night reflected in Lana's eyes. They looked nearly indigo in the darkness. Her golden tresses took on a quicksilver hue as the light of the stars rested in the net of her hair. Legolas took both her hands in his.

Finally turning her away from the vision before her, she stared deeply into his eyes. "It's beyond beautiful."

Legolas smiled and lifted his hand to touch her cheek. His heart was hammering and strangely he felt nervous.

"Aye," he whispered. _You are,_ he thought.

Lana's wondrous gaze shifted into one of profound love. She looked unreal, standing with the starlight in her hair. She positively glowed.

There so many things he wished to say to her, but all of his carefully rehearsed lines disappeared from his mind. He stood there with lips parted trying to find what it was he wished to say.

"Lana," he murmured. "I am a fool."

A single brow arched over her eyes. "You are?"

He dropped her gaze and laughed breathlessly. He stared down at their joined hands.

"Aye. I stared into Death's eyes and have lived. Yet now I find all my courage has fled me."

She tilted her head. "You have that in spades. I doubt you could be anything but courageous. What could have my warrior prince so nervous then?"

Heart pounding he squeezed her hands and made himself meet her gaze. Suddenly the words he needed poured forth.

"You know that I love you. What I feel for you cannot be adequately described in the tongues of elves or men. Yet I feel I must try."

Her lips parted slightly and she looked up at him, waiting.

"Before I met you, before I fell in love with you, I had not realized how empty my life was. I went through the motions, but I did not truly partake the joys of living. I always did what was expected of me, and held myself to a strict code of honor. But that was not — _is_ not — fulfilling."

He moved one of his hands to cup her face. "Then you came along, and you threw everything I knew into chaos. I did not know it at first, but from the moment I first saw you I felt _something._ I knew there was something about you.

"You made me question principles I took for granted. You opened my eyes to impossible things, and taught me about persistence, bravery, and kindness."

Lana knit her brow. "I would say _you_ taught _me_ those things."

"Aye perhaps, but then that would be another sign to me — we can learn from _each other_. The Valar have looked down upon us and saw what could be. I thank them and Eru daily for the gift of your love. And I would have you near me for as many days as I can."

He smiled down at her. "Did you know, that I beg to steal you away from your fate each day?"

She blinked. "My fate?"

"Aye — I would keep you for eternity." He sighed and glanced down. "It is foolish, but I cannot help but ask for such a gift."

"Legolas…" There was an intense emotion in her eyes.

He met her gaze again. "Aye, I know. When I chose to accept our love I also accepted your mortality. Yet while I had hoped, I could have never dreamed that we both would survive this war."

"Nothing is impossible." She said, lips curving. "I'm here after all — from another world and time. That shouldn't be possible at all. If that alone doesn't say something about impossibilities then I don't know what would."

He chuckled and pressed his forehead against hers. He nuzzled her softly but pulled away before their lips could truly meet. She made a frustrated noise in her throat. Stroking her cheek he smiled.

"Never could I understand mortals' press for time. You all seemed in such a rush, grasping at life with both hands. But I know now. I understand what it is you must feel from the day you are born." Cupping her face he held her gaze steadily. "I would spend each of your days at your side and not waste a single moment. I cannot see a future without you in it."

To her amazement he knelt before her. Her eyes widened.

"My Lady Lana, I would ask for your hand in marriage. Will you bind yourself to me?"

She stood there stupidly. Of course she had known in the back of her mind that she would marry Legolas — and in some respects they already _were_ since they jumped the gun by elvish customs. But she hadn't been expecting such a heartfelt proposal this night.

Looking down into his eyes that held more love than she thought humanly possible she felt her eyes well up with tears. Kneeling down so she could be eye level with him she held his gaze.

"Yes," she murmured. "Until death do us part."

Legolas broke into a smile that out shown any he had ever given her. They reached for one another and when their lips met it was with the sweet knowledge that they truly belonged to each other.

It didn't take long for their passions to grow. Legolas pressed against her until Lana was lying flat on the ground. He moved over her, his free hand trailing over her hair and face and smoothing down her side. He griped the back of her thigh and pressed himself against her intimate flesh.

She moaned and arched under him. There was too much fabric between them, but that didn't stop Legolas from moving over her in a bold rhythm.

_"Merin le," _He pulled back enough to gaze into her face.

"I love you too." She whispered.

They kissed again, this time slower. Then suddenly Legolas laughed. Breaking the kiss he nuzzled her.

"What's so funny?"

"You."

"Me?"

"Aye — I have no control around you."

She gave him an arched look. "I suppose I could call that an accomplishment of sorts, though I fail to see why it's funny." Her quirking lips belied her words though.

Legolas sat up and helped her rise. "That is because you did not know that I had planned to propose to you in Minas Tirith. And I had was going to have a ring made for you and everything — but alas! I could not stop myself from asking you tonight."

She smirked. "Well you're lucky that I'm not overly concerned about it. All I need is you."

His eyes darkened again. "I am glad to hear it," intoned with sweet gravitas. "But still, a ring must be made. I would have the world know you are mine."

"Ah I see," she smirked. "Claiming your territory."

He scowled. "That is not how I would phrase it. Is there a possibility you would ever curb that biting tongue of yours?"

She grinned. "Not a chance."

* * *

_Thoughts?_

_I love hearing from you! _

_As always thanks for reading._


	61. Return of the King

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.**

I don't own anything of Tolkien's Middle Earth. I just play there.

N.B.: The long speeches are directly lifted from _The Return of the King. _All credit for those words belongs solely to Tolkien. *All bow in deference to the mighty writer!*

* * *

**Chapter 60: Return of the King**

It took the forces of Gondor and Rohan a month to suppress and pursue their remaining enemies. The foundations of Barad-dûr were destroyed and every orc, troll, and thrall of Sauron discovered was put to death. Those who were enslaved were rescued and emancipated.

Prince Imrahil had come from Minas Tirith and added his swan knights to the crusade. However, Faramir stayed in the White City. As Aragorn had yet to be crowned, the Steward was still the master of city. There was much to be done as the refugees who had escaped started to return to their homes. Éowyn had stayed behind as well, though she sent letters to her brother and Lana.

As for Lana, her days were fruitful. She spent hours talking with anyone who cared to speak with her, and she recorded story after story in her sketchbook — from the lowest foot soldiers to even Éomer himself. The blank pages were filled with her shorthand but also designs and doodles that her interviewees' words evoked. In a way, her book became a work of art on its own.

But her greatest work came from the time she spent with Frodo and Sam.

She was a bit leery about approaching the dark haired hobbit. Considering what he had been through physically and mentally, she saw the sure signs of PTSD. The last thing she wanted to do was put any strain on him, but at the same time she identified with his sufferings.

While their experiences were as different as beer was from wine, she felt that perhaps she could help him. At the very least she wished to extend her friendship to him. After all, it was because of him that she had a future with Legolas at all.

In the beginning she just sat and talked to him. She spoke about herself thereby taking the burden of the conversation away from the weary hobbit. Gradually he reciprocated. The guarded nature from the past was gone, though a shadow lingered in his eyes. Frodo was in truth a very learnéd and kind hobbit. He was completely devoid of hubris, which was astounding given how he was now lauded as the savior of Middle Earth.

They enjoyed their time together, trading one story for another. Lana discovered that Frodo had been quite precocious as a child, and that he idolized his uncle. That's where his spirit for adventure came from he revealed — that and his Tookish tendencies. That made her laugh. Slowly and with much respect and care she got his full story. He was actually delighted when she expressed her desire to write his adventures down.

During each of their talks Sam was always present, and he added his two-cents to each of the discussions. What revealed itself in Lana's sketchbook was a tale of bravery, self-sacrifice, struggle, and friendship unlike anything she had come across before. The two hobbits amazed her more than before and she looked upon them with a new light of awe and respect.

As for Frodo himself, he found Lana to be a most excellent person, who was both kind and charming. He blamed the Ring for his reticence towards her initially. But with the Ring destroyed he had some semblance of his former self back. He was very much surprised to hear of her own war experiences and she shared with him her struggles with post-war anxiety.

They managed to come to an understanding with each other that made each of them smile.

When she was not interviewing or writing, Lana made herself useful by cooking or tending to camp chores while the battle worthy members of the Fellowship and soldiers chased down the Easterlings and Southrons.

Lana wondered at Aragorn's virulent pursuit of these other men. It seemed unlike him, but then she knew very little about these tribes. What information she could glean from the soldiers at camp was that they had sold their souls to Sauron. And they were as evil as their counterparts in the Mordor.

"Little better than orcs — or perhaps worse," one soldier told her shaking his head. "They _willingly_ followed Sauron. They are dogs."

Lana had compressed her lips upon hearing this, for it sounded very much like racism to her, but she held her tongue. More research was needed before she could make a conclusion. Part of her — the journalistic part — desired to speak with these foreign tribes and learn more about them. They were men after all — _not_ orcs — no matter what these western men thought. So it stood to reason that they couldn't all be purely evil. No one was born evil — at least not when it came to the human race. She would like to understand what it was that drove these men to align themselves with Middle Earth's devil.

But the prospect of ever speaking with one of them was slim to none. Not only would no one allow it, but Aragorn was making certain that none remained within his ancestors' domain.

o0o

"What are you drawing?"

Lana didn't look up but she felt a smile tug on her lips. Legolas move up behind her. Lifting her hands she let him see. He crouched down at her shoulder and studied the drawing. It was a bit stylized but the figures were clear. A woman stood defiantly before a black serpentine creature, sword lifted high. On the creature's back was a figure hooded and cloaked, and under its talons was a slain horse.

Near the woman was a small figure who also brandished a sword. Whorls of dust and smoke echoed the spirals in the woman's hair and the knot work on the smaller figure's armor.

_Éowyn_ _and Merry. _The scene was unmistakable.

"This is superb." Legolas said at last and sat next to her.

Lana had chosen to sit at the Fellowship's campfire that night while the rest of the company dined on the field below. She had felt tired. A quiet night was needed. Especially since tomorrow they would return to Minas Tirith.

"Thanks," she yawned. "I can't get their story out of my head, so I thought if I drew it, it would leave me alone." She leaned against his shoulder.

Without hesitation Legolas wrapped his arm around her. Beyond the hill they could hear the racket from the men at dinner. Scent of roasting meat wafted up in the air. It still smelled good, even though she was full.

When Legolas had noticed she had disappeared he went searching for her. The ever-watchful Elrondion brothers of course noted his departure. Elrohir had smirked at him, though there was a tinge of disapproval in his eyes. Legolas had lifted his chin slightly and made a silent exit.

He found her where he expected. His heart warmed seeing her pencil glide effortlessly over the paper in her book. It had been too long since she had sketched. It was good to see her back in the habit.

He moved his arm so that it wrapped around her middle. His hand idly drew designs under her right breast. Lana relaxed further into him.

The touch felt good. She sighed, content, and closed her sketchbook. Spreading her fingers over the leather cover she stared at her fingers.

Lana could now say that she was physically healed. Aragorn had removed the stitches from her side several days ago, and her hand no longer required binding. As for her head, she did have occasional flashes of pain and more consistent headaches, but her skull was no longer tender. There were still some fuzzy gaps in her memory but she recalled most things without any problem.

Legolas tightened his grip around her and kissed the top of her head. Then he lifted up the hand closest to him and inspected her fingers.

"Something is missing," he said lightly, turning her hand this way and that.

"And what would that be?"

_"Echor nín." My ring._

Lana smiled and spread her fingers over his palm so they aligned with his. While their engagement legitimate, she supposed it would feel more official once she did have a ring on her finger.

"Which hand does the ring go on?" She asked suddenly.

Legolas thread his fingers between hers. "The right hand. And the ring sits on this finger here." He tapped her ring finger.

"What are traditional elvish wedding rings like?" She turned further towards him so that she could rest her hand over his heart; her cheek pressed against his tunic.

Legolas laid his chin on her head. "It is up to the couple to decide. But the band is usually gold, or _mithril_ if possible."

"And _mithril _is silver colored right?"

"Aye. Do you prefer silver to gold?"

Lana thought about it for a moment. For years she had tended to go for silver jewelry, but recently she found that she liked yellow gold. It was an important decision to make. In the end, however, she shrugged.

"I like both. I've seen rings that look woven and are both silver and gold. Copper is pretty too, but that tarnishes too easily."

Legolas lifted a hand and began to idly play with her hair. It sent pleasant tingles through her scalp and she melted further against him. His heart beat steadily under her ear. The moment was idyllic and she felt like Titania at the end of _A Midsummer Night's Dream._

"What are wedding rings like in your world?" Legolas asked, his words effectively dissipating her daydreaming.

Lana rubbed her fingers over the designs stitched into his outer tunic, her answer automatic. "Modern rings tend to be white gold or platinum — that's the current fashion. And wedding rings are almost always encrusted with diamonds. That's pretty traditional. My mother's wedding ring was yellow gold though." She shrugged indolently. "I think it depends on the bride's preference. But most wedding rings have diamonds on them."

Legolas listened, making mental notes on all that she said. He already had an idea of what he wanted her ring to look like. There was a jewel in his father's horde that he now found himself coveting for her. It would fit perfectly with the design he envisioned. But he wanted to make sure she would like it.

Unfortunately, they both would have to wait until they went to Mirkwood to have this ring. Only an elven-smith could fashion what he had in mind. In the meantime, he was certain the smiths in Gondor could make the betrothal ring he wanted. The trick would be getting payment. He had left Mirkwood without carrying currency. There had been no need, but the world of Men ran on money. Perhaps Aragorn could give him a temporary loan.

He laughed mentally. Who would have thought the Prince of the Woodland Realm would need to beg money off the new King of Gondor? His lips quirked.

"Once we go to Mirkwood, we will have a proper betrothal ceremony." He told her, envisioning it.

It would be held in the glade where the Festival of Light took place. The trees would be festooned with banners, ribbons, and flowers. Lanterns of silver and gold would fill the glade with pure light — just like the days of legend in Valinor when the light of the Two Trees mingled.

He imagined Lana swathed in greens and golds: the colors of his house. And she would be _radiant_. And no elf would question his decision to bind with her. Not even his father.

His imagings were interrupted by her voice. "Sounds…rather intimidating."

He tilted his head so he could see her face. Her eyes were unfocused as her mind's eye turned inwardly. He caught the faint hesitation in her voice. From what he knew, Lana was unaccustomed to such attention back in her world. He smiled softly, bemused by her uncharacteristic timidity.

It charmed him. To think that his bold lady had a streak of bashfulness was like discovering a kitten had caused the shadow of a lion to appear. It was endearing.

"There is nothing to worry about. It can be as simple or lavish as you like." He spoke reassuringly.

_"Hmm." _She bit her lip, thinking. "I think we'll have to worry about your father first before we have any kind of ceremony. Right?"

Her blue eyes were worried now. Legolas kissed the furrowed brows smoothing away the tension. "Aye, but you needn't concern yourself with that. I will settle the matter with him."

Lana didn't look convinced but she let the subject drop. She was no more eager to speak about his father than he was. It was subject that they would breech later. For now they were content to muse on the more joyful parts of being engaged.

As the night dragged on Lana fell half asleep in his arms. As much as he loved holding her like this, Legolas knew she would be more comfortable on the cot in the tent. Not to mention that the trip down river would take two days on a cramped ship. She deserved a good night's sleep.

She mumbled something incoherently as he gently woke her up.

_"Mmngh," _she grumbled then yawned wide. His lips quirked as he heard her jaw pop. She was utterly adorable in his eyes. Especially with her hair mussed up on the right side — courtesy of lying on his chest.

"Come. Time for bed."

"Only if you come with me." She said stretching.

Unlike the times before, Legolas had stuck to propriety in this camp. It was in part due to the fact that they were scrutinized heavily by the army who watched the Fellowship with awe and admiration. Legolas did not want soldiers gossiping about Lana or her virtue. The other part was that he was uncertain if he could keep his hands off her.

Their night of physical union had brought about unforeseen consequences — chief among them was Legolas' inability to stay chaste around her. His body burned for hers even as his soul snatched greedily at her _feä._ He had yet to take her aside and discuss this development between them.

Part of him worried what her reaction might be. While he had explained elven marriage to her, it had been a superficial explanation — one reserved for elflings or delicate situations. He had not fully disclosed what happens when an elf bonds with his love. As far as he knew, such a bond was not possible for mortals. But he had been wrong before.

As he guided her into the tent he shared with Gimli, he could not resist kneeling down next to her. All he wanted to do was hold her. _Well, more than that,_ but he stoutly put a lid on his baser urges.

Once supine, Lana stretched like a cat and then reached for his hand. "Stay," she murmured sleepily.

He grimaced internally. He wanted to nothing but that, but he was vacillating. Her dark blue eyes were hazy and she held his gaze steadily. The pull of her gaze was inescapable.

After a moment more of uncertainty, he decided to risk it. He smirked then and pushed her over a bit to make some room on the cot. She giggled softly. He stretched out next to her savoring the closeness between them. Immediately she snuggled up to him closing her eyes. Her nose pressed into the hallow of his neck she inhaled deeply.

"You smell good."

He grunted in amusement. "You think so? I haven't bathed in two days."

Her face scrunched up at that but then she cracked open one eye. "Fuck, Legolas. You didn't have to tell me _that._ Geez."

His chest vibrated as he gathered her in. He pressed is own nose into her hair. "You don't smell so bad yourself."

Her lips curved and she snickered. "I haven't bathed in _three _days."

Their giggling left Lana a bit more awake. Legolas inhaled sharply as her lips touched his neck. She moved lazily, clearly enjoying the slow line of fire she left on his skin. A hum left him and his free hand pressed down her spine and curved around her backside. With a single pull he closed the minute gap between them.

"You play a dangerous game, _meleth nín. _Gimli could return at any moment."

"You would hear him before he got here," she reasoned logically, moving up towards his ear.

He shuddered not at all sure that he _would_ hear the dwarf's arrival. Best put an end to things before they got out of hand. Deftly he rolled over her, pinning her down with his weight. She grunted and pushed against his chest.

"No fair," she complained as he captured her wrists and pulled them over her head.

"What was it you told me last week? All is fair in love and war?"

She glowered at him. "Cheeky bastard."

He laughed and lowered his lips to hers. Keeping a both her wrists in one hand, he used the other to tease her through her clothing. It was just as tortuous for him as it was for her though. At last he ceased.

"No more, or I shall not be able to stay."

She huffed and rolled over so her back was to him. "I wish we had our _own_ tent."

He had to agree, though that wouldn't solve the problem of sound escaping. Lana reached for his arm and pulled it securely over her, then relaxed.

_Soon, _he coached himself. Soon she would be his entirely.

o0o

The camp woke early and began dismantling. Aragorn and the Fellowship would be taking one of the ships down the river to Minas Tirith. It was with great fanfare and much singing that the company boarded and hoisted the sails to return to the White City.

Lana was actually quite eager to return for she wished to tell Éowyn of her engagement — even though they had yet to tell their other friends. There would be plenty time for that, but first there was a king to crown.

The gates were still broken but a formidable barrier had been erected before the entrance to Minas Tirith. Soldiers of Gondor and Rohan lined the way up to the bruised but still proud city. Before the gates stood Faramir along with Húrin, Warden of the Keys, along with other captains of Gondor. Near him but still off to the side stood Éowyn, clad in pure white. Her hair like spun gold was flowing down her back in waves.

The shadow had left her completely and now she shone like a beacon, fair and queenly. In her face sat much joy and love. She waited along with the rest for Aragorn to proceed up to the gates. Behind him the Dúnedain dressed in silver and grey followed.

But Aragorn was now robed in finery: black mail girt with silver covered him and he wore a long mantle of pristine white. At his throat was a jewel of striking green that could be seen from afar — the Elessar stone: one of the heirlooms of his house. Legend said it to once have belonged to Ëarendil himself — the father of Elrond and his twin Elros, from whom the line of kings was descended. The jewel flashed brightly as if self illuminating. On his head was a fine silver band bearing what looked like a star.

Also with him were Éomer King of Rohan and Prince Imrahil. Gandalf too strode with pride and joy in his white robes. Next to him came the four hobbits. Legolas and Gimli strode behind them. Lana had refused to walk with that honorable convoy and processed behind with the other high-ranking soldiers. She felt it wrong that she should be shoulder to shoulder with the Fellowship for she was not one of them — she was not a hero.

The hobbits had complained that it was not so, and so too had Gimli and Legolas added their dissent. But Lana had moved to Aragorn and rested her hand on his cheek.

"This is _your_ hour. And I am happy to bear witness to it." She had said with a soft smile. "Today you shall be seen. Not me."

Aragorn had understood, though he too felt she had earned her place with them. He had made a mental note to be sure to honor her at a later point. He would not be standing here had she not foolishly entered the battle at Helm's Deep. For that bold action she had his undying gratitude.

As the procession neared the barrier, Faramir strode forward along with Húrin. In the Steward's hand was a white rod. He knelt before Aragorn and spoke out in a clear voice:

"The last Steward of Gondor begs leave to surrender his office." He held out the rod. Aragorn took it but immediately passed it back.

"That office is not ended," he said, his voice reaching even the spectators high up on the wall. "It shall be thine and they heirs' as long as my line shall last. Do now thy office!"

Then Faramir rose up, his eyes gleaming with joy and he addressed those amassed before the gates.

"Men of Gondor, hear now the Steward of this Realm! Behold! One has come to claim the kingship again at last. Here is Aragorn son of Arathorn, chieftain of the Dúnedain of Arnor, Captain of the Host of the West, bearer of the Star of the North, wielder of the Sword Reforged, victorious in battle, whose hands bring healing, the Elfstone, Elessar of the line of Valandil, Isildur's son, Elendil's son of Númenor. Shall he be king and enter into the City and dwell there?"

The resounding _yea!_ shook the very foundations of the city. Lana from her place in the back broke into an enormous grin. Without warning or explanation she began to laugh joyfully. The soldiers near her caught the infectious elation and began to laugh and cheer with her.

After a long moment of unrestrained cheering, Faramir lifted his hand and his voice rose above the din.

"Men of Gondor, the loremasters tell that it was the custom of old that the king should receive the crown from his father ere he died; or if that might not be, that he should go alone and take it from the hands of his father in the tomb where he was laid. But since things must be done otherwise, using the authority of the Steward, I have today brought hither from Rath Dínen the crown of Eärnur the last king, whose days passed in the time of our longfathers of old."

The guards behind him stepped forward, and Faramir opened the small casket they held between them. Drawing out from within, he held up the ancient crown. It was fashioned after the shape of the helms of the Guards of the Citadel, save that it was loftier, and it was all white. Wings at either side were wrought of pearl and silver in the likeness of a sea-bird. This was the ancient emblem of the kings of old who came over the Sea. Seven gems of adamant were set in the circlet and upon its summit was a single jewel, the light of which went up like a flame.

Aragorn reverently took the crown in his hands and held it aloft and said: "_Et Eärello Endorenna utúlien. Sinome maruvan ar Hildinyar tenn' Ambar-metta!"_

Those were the self-same words that Elendil spoke when he came up out of the Sea on the wings of the wind all those long centuries ago.

_"Out of the Great Sea to Middle-Earth I am come. In this place will I abide, and my heirs, unto the ending of the world."_

Then to the astonishment of all present, Aragorn passed the crown back to Faramir and said, "By the labor and valor of many I have come into my inheritance. In toke of this I would have the Ring-bearer bring the crown to me, and let Mithrandir set it upon my head, if he will; for he has been the mover all that has been accomplished, and this is his victory."

Stunned Frodo moved forward slowly, conscious of all the eyes upon him. Faramir smiled and passed the elegant crown to him, and Frodo bore it to Gandalf. Aragorn then knelt before the _Istar_ and bowed his head. Holding the crown aloft Gandalf slowly lowered it onto Aragorn's head.

"Now come the days of the King, and may the be blessed while the throne of the Valar endure!"

Aragorn rose and a reverent hush greeted him. It seemed to all massed there that he was of the great sea-kings of old. Tall he stood, and fair to behold, as a man in his prime. Wisdom sat on his brow and strength and healing were in his hands. A light seemed to cling about him.

To Lana, he looked like legend manifest. For one who had once adored myths and legends as a child, to see it in reality humbled her. Even in the future she could never find the best words to describe this moment.

"Behold the King!" Faramir cried.

In that instant trumpets were blown. King Elessar, as he would be known to history, strode forth and came to the barrier. Húrin of the keys thrust it back. Music of harps, viols, and horns swelled in the air, as did many voices lifted in shouts of joy and song. Flowers seemed to rain from the sky as Aragorn entered the city.

Upon reaching the citadel the banner of the King was unfurled on the top most tower. It shimmered in ebony and pearl. And so the reign of King Elessar began.

o0o

Lana stood off to the side watching the ensuing party. The feasting that night was beyond anything she had ever seen. All the ranking officers, kings, and princes, along with the Fellowship were gathered in a great hall. Lana observed those who were married had brought their wives and those who were not eyed the array of single woman with sparkling eyes.

_War's over. Time to repopulate! _Lana smirked into her wine glass. This celebration was by far the happiest and most exuberant she had ever attended. She imagined this was what Europe was like after then end of World War II. Light, laughter, music, alcohol — everything was free flowing that night. And she wanted to take a moment to just step back and watch it all.

Aragorn was resplendent in his finery. It was still amazing to think that she had thrown grapes at this man in Lothlórien. She marveled at the change that came over him. The man never seemed to miss a beat, and he had stepped into his destiny with a confidence she could easily envy did she not love him like her own family.

A tray carried by a servant was piled high with fruit — including grapes. She snatched a few and smiled inwardly. She looked across to where Aragorn was, and decided that she wasn't that bold. She popped a fruit into her mouth.

Legolas and Gimli stood conversing merrily with the soldiers they had fought with. Their faces glowed and laughter ran freely from their lips. It warmed her heart to see the friendship of those two. It had grown into something wonderful — albeit strange, but so heartwarming. She loved it.

Shifting her gaze she caught sight of Pippin dressed in his Tower Guard uniform. He looked quite regal, but his cheerful grin could not be repressed. Merry looked like a true Rohan warrior, garbed in his Rohirric heraldry. Irrepressible as ever, the cousins had the men in their company in stitches. Her lips quirked.

Lifting her gaze once more she spotted Frodo and Sam. They had a place of honor at the high table. Robed in finery, they looked on with twin faces of amazement and wonder, and no small amount of embarrassment on Sam's part. Gandalf sat by Frodo. The wizard had yet to drop his smile. Lana's face hurt just watching him laugh and grin.

How far they all had come!

It was hard to take in — some how she never imagined herself here. While she had always thought she would survive, she never gave the future much thought beyond surviving to the next day. Any thoughts she did have were initially about going home. Then those were exchanged for a future with Legolas. But even then she hardly contemplated what life would be like.

Now she stepped back just so she could take stock of everything. For once she was content to observe instead of mingle.

She wasn't alone for too long though. Her lips curved warmly as Aragorn came and stood by her side.

"Look at you," she said playfully. "Never did I think that I would be able to call a king my friend."

His smile was bright and laughter danced in his eyes. "I would have thought you would have been in the thick of all this celebration, yet here you stand alone. Do you not like my party?"

She chuckled and shoved him lightly with her shoulder. King or no, she still maintained the right to tease him.

"It's a grand party," she said in accented tones of a highborn lady. "Most excellent indeed." She popped another grape in her mouth and chewed methodically.

A moment of companionable silence fell between. One thing Lana loved about her relationship with Aragorn was that words weren't required. They understood each other, even if they did annoy each other at times.

"Lana," he said capturing her full attention. "If only you could see what I see." She lifted a brow and waited. "The woman we found in Moria has transformed before my very eyes into a lady of highest notoriety."

She snorted. "I think that epithet belongs to Éowyn."

He grinned warmly but shook his head. "Your deeds have been great as well — hear me," he said lifting a hand when she would protest. "You have proven that nobility and friendship can be found in even the darkest of places. It was your courage and selflessness that pushed you to warn me during the battle of Helm's Deep; and it was your convictions in what is good and noble that drove you to ride into battle, even though you were not supposed to.

"While you are not the first to teach me the value of each life, you are the one who proved to me that it is what we do for the sake of others that matters most. I would honor your commitment to truth and justice."

Lana blinked though her face shone with love for him. "You've rendered me speechless." She laughed. "I don't know what to say to that. Except, perhaps, you are like a brother to me. I wouldn't be alive today if it weren't for you." She leaned in close. "Though Legolas would hate to admit it, not even he can make that initial claim. You pushed me when others would have left me alone — you whipped me into shape when I sulked in my own misery. You've taught me so much. I can never thank you enough. You are family to me."

Aragorn's lips drew back into a heartfelt smile. He looked down upon Lana with great affection. It was easy to see why Legolas was drawn to her. Yes she was flawed, she had made mistakes, but she always picked herself up and moved ahead. It was her determination and tenacity he admired most. When other women — _and_ men — would have faltered, she found away. Stumbling, sometimes blindly she had survived. And now she was making a life for herself.

It was beautiful to see. Lana was lovely inside and out. Now as she stood before him garbed in a stunning gown of brocaded gray and silver with her hair piled up on her head artfully, curled, and flowing over her shoulders, he couldn't believe that she had only entered his life a few short months ago. He felt eager to introduce her to Arwen. He was certain the two of them would become close and fast friends.

His eyes grew mischievous. "I've heard you've been making inquires into my actions as king already."

"Sorry?" She blinked at him in confusion.

"Something about you questioning my treatment of the Easterlings and Southrons."

"Ah," she said sheepishly. "That."

"Aye. _That._ I would have you know that I have taken your inquires to heart." He paused watching her face fill with worry and anticipation. "Since my commands have caused you so much concern I have decided to pardon those who wish to repent their evils ways." He clasped his hands behind his back nonchalantly. "They will be free to return to their homes with the promise of beneficial diplomatic relations for the future."

Lana's worry turned into one of pure elation. "Well way to go, your highness! Already you're a exceeding my expectations! Perhaps I could get used to the idea of kings." She ribbed.

They shared a laugh. Aragorn was well aware of that Lana thought about monarchies. Outdated she had once called them. _"They are fine I suppose — but I think the people deserve to have a voice in their government."_ Unknown to her, Aragorn had taken those words to heart. In the future he wanted to sit down with her and discuss in detail how her government worked. There was some wisdom in what she had said.

Legolas soon joined them. He had seen them conversing together and was curious as to why Lana chose to stand alone. The look he shared with her put his curiosity at ease. She was tired, but happy.

Before too long a nebulous crowd of people formed around their new King, eager to speak with him and with the famed Prince of the Woodland Realm. Lana found it best if she kept her lips sealed and not draw attention to herself. But people were naturally curious.

Who was she? How did she know the King? Why did she speak with a strange accent? All these questions were asked with varying degrees of subterfuge. It was like playing a very Victorian game of dodge ball — all polite manners but with curious probing. She wouldn't have survived if Aragorn and Legolas hadn't been there to fill in the gaps when she became tongue-tied.

She hadn't been this scrutinized since first arriving in Middle Earth. Even in Edoras she at least had the pretense of looking someone like one of the Rohirrim. Here her blond hair stood out like spotlight.

It was with immense relief that she was able to make an escape outside. The feasting was held in the large hall near the throne room. This meant Lana found herself in the main courtyard. The living white tree was flourishing now with blooms. A sweet perfume filled the air. Lana walked around the tree, not pausing to appreciate its delicate beauty. Instead she beelined for the promenade that extended outwards like a prow of a ship.

Thankfully there were just enough strangers mingling about that her singular presence was not directly noted. Nodding to couples and clusters of jovial folk, Lana moved to the farthest point on the esplanade. She immediately decided this was a bad idea and took ten steps back as a tidal feeling of vertigo washed over her. The retaining wall was not quite high enough to make her feel safe, and she got that tingling feeling in her feet that always happened when exposed to extreme heights.

Feeling a bit awkward just standing out in the open she moved to an unoccupied bench. For a moment she just soaked up the solitude. In truth she was ridiculously happy, but just a bit overwhelmed by all the people. Or rather the level of scrutiny she had become subject to wore her out. It was not something she had foreseen when she thought about her future.

But sitting out here under the stars enjoying with the feeling of joy and blissful warmth brought on by all the wine she had consumed, Lana found herself content. Tilting her face towards the heavens she scanned the sky idly before closing her eyes. She hummed a bit in undertone. Yes she was thoroughly buzzed. The alcohol was running thick in her veins. And it made her sleepy.

"You are shining."

Lana opened her eyes to see Legolas studying her. Observing him she lifted a brow. "If anyone is shining it's you." She made space for him on the bench and immediately kissed his cheek as he sat beside her. "Is that some elvish magic-trick?"

He cocked his head. "What do mean?"

"The glowing. You always seem to glow at night — just barely."

The look he gave her filled her with satisfaction. She could tell that he enjoyed her questions about elvish things.

"It is merely the reflection of your love, Cairnmel."

Lana rolled her eyes. "Oh please, spare me the shmutz. It's an honest question."

Legolas chuckled. "Very well. The true answer is yes, the _Eldar_ can and very often do glow faintly. But it is not just at night — it is only during the day the light of the sun drowns it out."

She thought about that — half of it was quite logical. The other half…well… "But how do you do it? I mean elves aren't bioluminescent — are _you?"_

He frowned a bit. It had been a long time since she used a word that he was wholly unfamiliar with, nor able to puzzle out. "Bio-lum-lume…"

"Naturally glowing — able to emit light." She supplied.

Legolas thought about it then spoke casually. "By your definition of the word, I would have to say yes. Though the reason for it is simply we are the Children of Ilúvatar, created when there was no light but the stars. A trace of their light still lingers within us."

"But aren't the race of Men the same? I mean, Children of Ilúvatar?"

Legolas nodded, but said, "Aye, yet they came into being much later, after the creation of the sun."

This didn't satisfy Lana's scientifically minded brain and she said so. "By definition my race should be literally blinding then."

Legolas chuckled. "In all honesty, _meleth nín,_ I know not the full truth of the matter. Perhaps I was taught it once long ago, but it has been many a season since my formative lessons."

She snorted and crossed her arms. "What would your teachers say?" She admonished teasingly.

Lips curving he leaned towards her. "I was their favorite student."

Lana shook her head. "I somehow doubt that." She glanced over his shoulder to see how close the nearest clustering of people was. Glancing back at the amorous prince she dared him with her eyes. However, he saw her eyes shifted and he exhaled. Instead he lifted her hand and placed his kiss there — though he held her hand to his lips a bit longer than polite society would deem acceptable.

"Regardless, you _do_ shine this night. Like silver." He placed his hand on her thigh gently pressing against the gray brocade.

Lana wrinkled her nose. "This isn't my color," she plucked at the skirts. "It washes me out."

"Nay, it suits you."

"Sweet talk will get you nowhere." She sniffed, though her lips tilted with humor. The she looked at the dress again. "This color of gray is just atrocious on me. But they couldn't find anything else apparently."

Despite her confidence in her own suppositions, she was pleased that Legolas still found her attractive. It was silly but she _wanted_ to be beautiful for him. And if it helped entice him back to her bed, well then who was she to complain? The feeling of alcohol in her blood was dissolving her inhibitions, and she was feeling sneaky.

Glancing back at the groups of milling people she said, "Let's go to the gardens."

The unspoken intent in her words made Legolas' fingers curl on her thigh. He did not hesitated to take her hand and tuck it into the crook of his arm. It was not yet late, nor was it early — but the desire for some time alone was strong within them both. Legolas would have moved faster but Lana was not so practiced in walking in such voluminous skirts. It was something he found rather amusing.

"Oh shut up." She groused with out heat. "I'd like to see you do it." She fisted more of her skirts into her free hand.

Unfortunately for them, the gardens were not empty. They were not the only couple to seek seclusion here. Lana huffed but then tugged on Legolas' arm.

"This way." She had spent many days in the gardens and knew them quite well by now. Following a tall hedge to its end, she pulled him into a miniature orchard. Apple and cherry trees stood in orderly rows steadily loosing their blossoms. A careful inspection proved that they were alone at last.

Unable to wait any longer Legolas pulled then pushed Lana against the trunk of an apple tree. His lips found hers immediately. The last couple of days had been torturous. Being on the ship meant that they had reached Minas Tirith far more quickly than if they rode on horseback — but it also meant very close quarters with everyone else.

Mindful of the soldiers onboard, Legolas and Lana had behaved themselves admirably. But the growing tension between them that was only just now finding a fissure of release.

His tongue traced her lips then thrust aggressively into her mouth. One hand fisted in her hair while the other kneaded her breasts. He had discovered that this unerringly caused Lana to loose control and he exploited this knowledge to his advantage.

Lana was made nearly immobile by the assault. All she could do was cling to him. She felt a firm pressure against her stomach and instinctively rolled her hips forward. Curving her hand around his neck she hung on.

Legolas moved then to her throat, alternately licking and nipping the skin there. He pressed himself against her, pleased to hear her gasps of delight.

"I need you," she whispered.

The words hung in the air, infiltrating his senses. He shuddered, halting his progression down her neck. Lifting his head he pressed a rather subdued kiss on her lips then rested his head against hers and exhaled deliberately.

Lana opened her eyes and drew back so she could see his face. There was confusion in her eyes. Gently he smoothed her hair back then urged her to sit. He sat facing her. He could see her befuddlement grow.

_"Melethril, _there is something I must tell you," he began, still trying to calm his unfulfilled passions.

She lifted a brow and leaned back slightly. "That sounds kind of ominous." While the words were playfully spoken there was wariness in her gaze.

Legolas picked up her hand pressed a kiss to the back of it. "There is no need to fear. It is something about elves that I must explain to you."

He saw her relax and confusion was replaced with open curiosity. "Go on,"

"Do you remember when you asked me about elven marriages?" She nodded, and he continued. "There are some details I did not reveal to you in total." He watched her expression carefully, but she continued to look back expectantly. "I had told you about the _Fëaveryala_ and the _Hröaveryala."_

She nodded. "Yes, one is the binding of souls and the other the body."

He smiled, pleased that she remembered. "Aye. What I did not explain was what truly happens when an elf bonds with his love." He paused hoping that she remained open to his next words. "Traditionally the binding of souls takes place during the joining of bodies. What this means, in principle, is that the their souls become one — inexorably linked forever.

"I myself cannot say that I fully understood this until now, for it is difficult to explain to one who has never experienced it."

Lana's brow furrowed slightly. "So…what does this mean? That we actually become _one_ spirit or something?"

"In a way," he still held her hand and unconsciously rubbed his thumb across the back of it. "Our souls will be bound together. We will be aware of each other in ways unimaginable. It differs from couple to couple, but those whose connection is very strong can even sense what their partner is feeling — sometimes even their thoughts."

"Like telepathy?" He gave her a blank look. "Mind-reading." She supplied.

He dipped his head. "As you say."

Lana sat unmoving. She didn't seem put off by it and that was a good sign. However he could tell she was struggling to understand the implications of his words.

"I know it must difficult for you to understand. As I am told such a connection isn't possible between mortals."

She wrinkled her nose. "I would disagree. I don't have proof, but I read and even seen the powerful love between people."

Ah — that was intriguing. He would have to delve into that later. But he still needed to get to the root of this discussion.

"This pleases me. But I would tell you that I believe our _Fëaveryala _has already begun. For we have, in all truth, started the _Hröaveryala"_

Here Lana wrinkled her nose. "So you mean that we are _already_ married?"

Legolas dropped her gaze and looked down at her hand. He moved to thread his fingers through hers. She had yet to bear his ring.

"Not quite. We did not speak any vows, so the _Hröaveryala_ is incomplete. But," he lifted his eyes to meet hers. "I am without a doubt that our souls have started binding. And they're yearning to be completed."

Lana was trying very hard to keep up with all this. It sounded…well it sounded rather like something out of a sci-fi novel or something. Of course she was open to the idea of deep and profound love, but the seriousness with which Legolas spoke was making all this difficult for her to swallow down.

"But how can you be sure?"

Legolas smiled slightly. "I know it because I have _felt_ you."

"What do you mean?"

Lifting his other hand he gently glided it through her hair, wrapping it around his fingers. "When I rode off to Mordor I could feel this undeniable pull towards you. It was like a rope had been tied around me and it was slowly constricting the further away I rode from you. Yet it was more than that, I could sense _your_ longing and _your_ unease. Even this very evening when you stood off on your own, I could feel _your_ joy and happiness."

Lana blinked but said nothing.

"Surely you have felt our connection?" He watched her throat move as she swallowed. An uncertainty came into her eyes that made a bubble of doubt rise up in his chest. What if she didn't feel him the same way he felt her? Perhaps the lore was right. Mortals couldn't bond in the same way as the _Eldar._

"I've felt you too," she whispered so softly he nearly missed it.

After a stunned moment his face light up with joy. He squeezed both of her hands with each of his. "Tell me," he bid eagerly.

She bit her lip as if uncertain. "I…I felt connected to you, even though you were so far away. But I didn't think anything of it, or just dismissed it as my own thoughts and wishful thinking that you were back. But then…" she paused, eyes downcast as if unsure of what to say or how to say her next words.

"But then?"

Slowly her gaze met his. There was an intensity in her blue eyes that held him captive. "I felt an overwhelming sense of panic and despair. It was on March 25th. I was having tea with Éowyn. I had felt fine all morning but then out of nowhere I felt like I was suffocating. It was only later that I realized what exactly I was feeling — but I couldn't account for it."

Legolas looked on in awe and excitement. He remembered those feelings. They were what he had felt when they thought Frodo was lost. Although it was regrettable that Lana had picked up on _those_ feelings it thrilled him that she had felt him in return.

"Aye. You were sensing my emotions."

Lana pressed her lips together. "Well it was alarming. I had a full blown panic attack."

He furrowed his brow. "Panic attack?"

She quickly explained but waved off his concern. "It was fine, but is that going to happen _all_ the time now?" She sounded apprehensive.

"It eases with time — and I am told that as the marriage matures it gets easier to differentiate each other's feeling so they do not overwhelm."

"Ah," she didn't seem too sure about that but there was trust in her eyes. "So…is that it then?"

He shook his head. "There is a bit more — a complication really." He inhaled. "As it stands, we are not formally married, but the process of marriage has begun. Our spirits are yearning for each other. As a result we may find it, ah, _difficult_, to restrain ourselves."

Lana's brows lifted straight up. "Are you saying that we're going to be driven to mate like wild animals or something?"

Her comment took him off guard and he had to laugh. "Not quite. But until we complete our bond, we will feel temptation for each other."

She was watching him closely. "And that's…bad," she stated slowly.

Legolas shook his head. "Nay, I wouldn't say that, but there are expectations. Now that the war is over we have a future ahead of us, _meleth nín — _a future, that in my weakness — I had lost hope for. I do not regret our night together, but now things are different. Propriety must be adhered to."

"At least until we're married. Officially." She supplied.

He smiled at the glimmer of humor that managed to reach her eyes. "Aye until then."

"Well, then I suppose we should pick a date. I'd say the sooner the better."

Legolas agreed full heartedly but unfortunately custom demanded otherwise. "I wish it to be so, but we will have to bow to convention here."

"Why does it sound like I will hate your next words?"

He chuckled and brought her hand up for another kiss. "I am no less fond of it now myself, but my father and my people would expect no less. This is one of the instances where I truly loathe my title, but I cannot in good faith disregard my people."

Lana sighed heavily. "No. I suppose not." Her lips twisted into a frown. "Well, how long do we have to wait?"

"The traditional engagement period lasts one year."

"A year! But I don't want to wait a year!"

"Nor I. But I endeavor to speak to my father about it. Perhaps we can circumvent this expectation."

Lana then looked dully worried. "Do you think you'll be able to convince your father? Is he even going to like me?"

Legolas shifted and gathered her into his arms. "I cannot honestly say that he will be pleased with my decision; but you are mine and I will not yield you." His voice grew firm, almost militant. "Still, I would have my father's blessing."

"Which means sticking to convention." She sighed. "Well this sucks."

Legolas leaned his cheek on her head. "But what is a year? It is but a blink of time."

She snorted. "Maybe for you!" She shifted so she looked up at him. "So does this mean that we won't be getting frisky under the sheets for a year too?"

Her expression drew out a chuckle. "Unfortunately yes. I believe we have defied enough rules of my people — we should make good on what we have left."

Lana sighed dramatically. "Karma."

"What?"

"Never mind. I'll explain it another time."

A whole year of abstinence! Lana cringed inwardly. It wouldn't be a problem if she weren't madly in love! Mentally she swore at the medieval concords of this world. She didn't know how she was going to do it. And if what Legolas said was true then she was going to feel horny for a year with no relief. _To a nunnery!_ She was half tempted to find one.

"What are you thinking?" Legolas prompted when the silence grew long.

"I am wondering if there is a sleeping spell or something that can knock me out until the year is up."

Legolas chuckled, his chest vibrating against her. He kissed her temple. "Unfortunately, _meleth nín,_ what you wish for is only in fairytales."

_And I'm not in one._

* * *

_Thoughts? _

_This story is coming to a close rapidly. But do not despair! The sequel is currently under works. I hope to have it posted some time this summer (northern hemisphere summer that is!)._

_As always thanks for reading! _


	62. Into the World

**Please read the author's note for disclaimer and explanation of this story.**

I don't own anything of Tolkien's Middle Earth. I just play there.

* * *

**Chapter 61: Into the World**

It had taken Lana by surprise when a cohort of seamstresses knocked on her door. A lanky woman with greying hair was at the head of a pack of four dewy-eyed nervous looking women — more like girls actually. Despite being shorter than Lana by six inches, the head seamstress managed to look _down_ her nose at her. It some how made her flawless curtsey seem all the more mocking.

"My lady, we have come to take your measurements."

At first Lana didn't understand what the woman meant and stupidly said, "What?"

The woman lifted what looked to be a painted on brow and said in a long suffering tone, "Your measurements, my lady. His highness, King Elessar, has informed us that you do not own any suitable clothes of your own." Her eyes did Lana a once over. She spoke in a tone of reproof that rang with much self-importance.

"Oh. Ok." Lana made ready to leave and follow the seamstresses to their shop. But after an imperious sigh and sharp gesture, Lana realized that they were going to measure her _in_ her room.

_Of course they're going to measure you here! _But her own mental admonishments were cut short as the leader of the seamstresses continued to stare at her. It was like she was picking Lana apart, looking for flaws — both in body and in manners. Automatically Lana lifted her chin and drew herself upright.

The head seamstress called herself Ëarith, and she had served the house of the Stewards for over thirty years, she announced with not a breath wasted. She took her responsibilities very seriously.

"There is a reason why I am called upon by the Stewards and the other noble houses." She sniffed. "And it is the same reason why the King called upon me."

_And what reason is that? Can't be your manners! _Lana was tempted to cross her arms. Instead she forced herself to be pleasant. Friends were won over with smiles and kindness. But it was difficult to be civil when you were torn apart by a single shrewd look!

Ëarith's protégés were as solemn faced as their mentor, but glimmers of curiosity did peak through. This made Lana morbidly fascinated. What must it be like to work with the severe woman? _And does she ever smile? _The woman's eyes were like a hawk's combined with the snootiest of fashion critic expressions. There was only judgment in that gaze, and Lana wondered if there was a single happy bone in the woman's body.

"You'll need to remove your outer garments." Ëarith said pragmatically.

Lana sighed. It wasn't so much she was overly modest or embarrassed by her body. Most days she felt pretty good about herself. She had managed to gain some weight, which was a relief as she had been appallingly thin during her recovery. However, she doubted her body would shock the women. Given their profession they must have seen all kinds of female figures.

But she knew they would be staring at her tattoos. And Lana didn't want any more rumors flying about. Ever in-tuned with the people around her, Lana had caught wind that the house staff were gossiping about her. Mostly it was just how oddly she spoke, or how poorly she dressed for one who was supposedly "noble." This led to more questions about who she could possibly be, along with why and _how_ she knew the king and the Fellowship.

However, the most aggravating rumors were the most whispered. _She's the elf's whore. _Lana had nearly throttled the maid who had repeated it. The girl had not known that Lana was just around the hall corner when she said it. Seeing red Lana had been ready to start the equivalent of a bar fight, but then she realized it was _her_ chambermaid who spoke.

This made her hesitate. Had she heard her with Legolas that night? But how? The wing had been deserted! Or perhaps she was just making it up. Lana didn't know but she decided stealth and more information was required. While she didn't care too much if people gossiped, she wouldn't tolerate it when it came to her and Legolas. That was between them — _not_ the household staff of Minas Tirith.

Now as she stood before Ëarith who bore a long-suffering expression, Lana just knew she couldn't escape the rumor mill. The sight of her tattoos would only add fuel to the fire.

Suddenly she decided that perhaps she didn't need to make friends with this woman. In the end, Lana out ranked her — and it was a strange feeling. It fed some deep primal animalistic part in her brain that made her feel rather superior. She knew it was wrong, but she couldn't very well fight the anachronistic system single handed. And honestly, she was getting fed up with how people pointed and stared at her.

_Very well, if I'm going to be the talk of the town, let's give them something to talk about! _Smirking on the inside, Lana proceeded to remove her cloths without fuss.

There was an instant change in the mood of the room the moment she stepped out of the gown. Firstly, her undergarments caused the younger women to stare in blatant open curiosity. The black bra and black lacy underwear had followed Lana since day one in Middle Earth. While not overtly sexy, they were unlike anything the women had seen before. Lana laughed inwardly. She knew that most women were stuck wearing corsets. By comparison she was liberated!

But she knew without even looking at the women's faces that they were gobbed-smacked by her tattoos. While not patently visible straight on, they could see the edge of the designs that wrapped around her left side.

Ëarith only raised an imperious brow, her knife-sharp eyes holding a wealth of unspoken reproach. Still she knew her place and said nothing. But Lana could see the gossip lining up like racehorses at the starting gate behind the other seamstresses' teeth. Mentally she shrugged. _It's not like these women have a lot of mental stimulation,_ she assumed unfairly. Now they really had something to grease their nattering.

Lana's eyes gleamed with audacious challenge. The wanton rebel heart in her chest laughed at Gondorian social convention. At least for now_._

Without finesse, Ëarith pulled out her measuring string — a long cord knotted at regular intervals. With this she encircled every part of Lana's body, from her head, down to her ankles. Not even her fingers and feet were exempt. As she measured, the woman sounded off the numbers to her assistants who quickly made notes.

"Very good, my lady. You may put your dress back on." Ëarith said, her tone far from pleasant. "His highness instructed me to inform you that you may choose the style of gowns you like." Snapping her fingers brought one of the assistants rushing to her side with a leather folder. Passing it to Lana she continued, "These are some samples of what we can do for you."

Lana, deciding she might as well have some fun, lounged in her under garments instead of dressing. This caused the painted brows of Ëarith to move in a scornful way, but Lana gave her a pleasant expression as if it was perfectly normal to conduct business in her underwear.

"What kind of fabrics do you have?" She asked casually.

Ëarith proceeded to fill Lana in on all the types of velvets, wools, and silks they had access to — including their origins, and the cost. Clearly it was a test — designed to see if Lana would take advantage of her king's magnanimous generosity. Or at least Ëarith made it feel that way.

Lana had to roll her eyes. This wasn't her first experience with the women of Gondor. She had met a few of the soldiers' wives by now, and she was quickly forming a picture of the female society here. Judgmental, arrogant, and superficial were just a few words she would choose to describe them. Thank God she had Éowyn! Lana would probably cause a scene if she was forced to associate with this so-called "high society" on a daily basis.

Flipping through the drawings, she found that most of the dresses looked the same. Perhaps a hemline was different, or the collar was raised or lowered, but in essence they were all _alike_. And it looked like she would have to be sewn into them. _Corsets are so not my thing,_ she sighed.

Then she remembered her idea. But first she chose the styles she thought were the least constricting before broaching subject she had in mind.

"Lady Ëarith," she said sweetly.

"Madam will do, my lady. I have not the status as lady." The woman retorted flatly — although there was a subtle change in her expression that publicized her disdain.

"Sorry — _Madam_ Ëarith, I have a question for you," she paused making sure she did in fact have the woman's attention. "More like a proposition actually. Would it be too much trouble if you or one of your talented apprentices taught me how to sew?"

The blank face hardly changed except for a minute pinching around her lips. "There is no need for a _lady_ to learn such menial pursuits, my lady."

The emphasis was not lost on Lana. Vying between irritation, cattiness, and the desire to push her luck, she simply replied, "Well actually there _is_ a need — because I _want_ to learn. I have a little bit of knowledge, but now I would actually like to try and learn properly."

At home she could thread a sewing machine and fix a hem, but anything more complicated than that was out of her league. Still Lana loved fashion, and she already had designs on the Gondorian women's available dress selections. In her head she was envisioning a fashion revolution. No more princess cuts; no more corsets; and absolutely _no more_ velvet in the summer!

Being as traveled as she was, Lana's wardrobe back home boasted a fantastic array of ethnic inspired clothing. Those would be her inspiration. Already her fingers itched to break out her sketchbook and start drawing some designs. Some how she would have to find a way to integrate women's leggings and tunics into her repertoire, because wearing dresses day in and day out would be boring.

But the first hurdle was to get Ëarith to take her on as a student. And it was clear that the seamstress was not at all pleased by this proposition, but her station meant that she couldn't say no outright. With a stiff nod she said, "Very well. If it pleases you, then come to the shop next week."

With that, she snapped her fingers at her acolytes and they left like ducklings following their mother. Lana smirked at the closed door.

"Oh this is going to be lots of fun."

She lounged back and indulged in a fantasy filled with silks, satins, and brocades.

o0o

Lana related her adventure with the seamstresses at breakfast that morning. Éowyn has having a very difficult time not laughing outright, while the men at her table possessed a mixture of expressions from hilarity to shock. She could see them trying to _not _envision her sitting in her underwear. A ripple of amusement warmed her chest and spread down to her belly, and Lana chanced a peek in Legolas' direction.

The elven prince wasn't looking at her, but she could see the telltale signs of his entertainment lingering in the hidden planes of his face. She sent him a blatant feeling that caused him to look up at her with narrowed eyes.

Ever since their discussion in the garden about the elven bonding process, Lana had made it her daily mission to test this invisible connection between them. Firstly, the analytical side of her wanted to experiment with this supernatural thing that lay between them. While she had no reason to doubt Legolas' word, she wanted to see if she felt what he did — and if he could truly feel her when she directed something at him. She also was curious to see if it worked for pleasure as well as disquiet.

So far, she had been rather successful with the bolder sentiments. Those caused the greatest reactions in him. But she also noticed that it was more potent the closer together they were. Proximity was a strong factor — though if the feeling was strong enough it could traverse miles, as she already knew.

It took consistent practice and awareness, but Lana felt that she was getting better at separating his emotions from her own. At the same time, she worked on sending him messages not just with feelings but also thoughts. Thus far, she had only been able to communicate sentiments. The power of mind-speech appeared to elude them both. But she didn't mind all that much. She had a feeling that if Legolas' voice suddenly popped in her head, she would probably choke from the surprise of it.

She felt an answering tug from him now that clearly stated _behave._ Lips curving she focused back on the discussion around them. At their table sat Faramir and Éomer, along with Prince Imrahil. Éowyn was next to Lana, whereas Gimli sat on Legolas' other side. The hobbits and Gandalf seemed to be elsewhere that morning. So too was Aragorn. The new king had been noticeably absent from breakfast all week.

Aragorn had his work cut out before him. The man was up from dawn till dusk addressing petitions, handing out pardons, drawing up alliances, and setting up crews to begin rebuilding the city. Lana actually found herself terribly curious about all of this. While the bureaucracy was boring, the reconstruction of a city was quite exciting.

After much pestering she got Aragorn to agree to allow her to sit in on one of his daily sessions at court. But she had to have the proper clothes. So she assumed that's why he had sent the little sortie of seamstresses to her.

"Do you truly not know how to sew?" Éomer asked her as if shocked by this information.

Éowyn smacked her brother's arm declaring his question impertinent. The Shield Maiden did not seem to care about a wit about his new title of King of the Mark. The siblings glared at each other, though in false malice. Lana smirked, but a familiar nostalgia tugged on her heart.

"Well, I know the basics. But I need something to do that will keep me out of trouble." Lana replied with a puckish smile while reaching for another piece of bacon.

Out of all the assortment of foods on the table she only cared about the bacon. She could feel Legolas laughing at her. Ignoring him she placed the new helping on her plate and began to make a show of cutting it up into delicate pieces, mimicking what she thought was a well-to-do lady. His amusement shimmered over her.

"It seems to me that you will find mischief where ever you go." Faramir chimed in. "Somehow I imagine you'll create a garment with the sole purpose of shocking the entire court."

"Indeed," Legolas said. "The Lady Lana is quite precocious. I warned Aragorn about letting her run loose in his house."

The table laughed and Lana sent the elf a searing glare. However, the idea of "shocking" the court seemed a wonderful idea. She just wasn't sure if she was bold enough for that. _Not yet anyway. _

"I'd watch your tongue laddie," Gimli chortled. "That gaze of hers can cut flesh!"

Lana rolled her eyes. In truth she didn't mind the teasing at her expense. Her gut told her that this was going to be the way of things. As her circle of acquaintances grew, it became glaringly obvious just how different Lana was from the rest of the citizens of Arda. The moment she opened her mouth she could see the surprised and curious looks in people's eyes. She was used to it — mostly. But her lack of social mores could be picked out from across a crowded room.

It wasn't that she was rude or simple. Rather it was apparent that she didn't fit in. Though few would say so in her hearing. She had the favor of the Fellowship and their new king, therefore everyone smiled and said nice things to her. Yet she could read subtext. The polite veneer was easy to pierce.

Internally she sighed. Lana was not used to such pervasive scrutiny. _Well, not when I'm _not_ working. _Still, it was becoming increasingly annoying. Any more encounters like the one with Ëarith would surely test Lana's patience.

It seemed that tact and lessons in court manners needed to be on the docket. While Lana chaffed at the idea of becoming a demure lady of court, she knew she had to learn the social constructs one way or another. Besides, she reasoned, once she knew the rules she could figure out how to bend them to suit herself. And she didn't want to bring her friends, or Legolas, any embarrassment.

It was going to be really interesting moving forward. Now that the war was over Lana would finally get the chance to really _see_ the people of Middle Earth. It would be an anthropologist's dream. Lana couldn't wait to observe Gondorian society and compare it to what she had seen so far. She was just not ready to be on the receiving end of such observations!

Dismissing her inner monologue, she asked Éowyn about going down to see what markets had come to life again, and Faramir was quick to offer himself as tour guide. The Steward was keen to make a good impression on both women — but his interest was clearly on the golden lady of Rohan.

Éomer sent a strong look towards Faramir and started vetting him with questions that made Éowyn squirm and roll her eyes. Lana hid her amusement in her cup. Brothers would be brothers.

o0o

It didn't surprise Lana when Aragorn summoned her after breakfast to his improvised study. Legolas joined her. He had rarely left her side since their triumphant return to the city. Only when it came to part ways at night did he leave her. His behavior was at once endearing and stifling. However, Lana knew he was reacting to the pull that lay between them — and her tugging on that connection probably made it worse.

However, she couldn't deny that she felt the draw as well. It tantalized her and when she thought about it the need for Legolas only seemed to grow. Maybe it was because she was a woman and could compartmentalize, or perhaps it was just her personality, but she found she could set aside the longing; at least somewhat.

Love was still very new to Legolas and he appeared to be going through almost adolescent-like reactions. He clearly enjoyed pulling her into corners and alcoves and kissing her senseless. He would look at her with obvious adoration — to the point that no one could miss it. Touch seemed to be the goal, and he always sought to hold her hand, stroke her hair, or press his lips to her skin.

It was all very sweet, and she did enjoy it — provided they didn't have an audience. She had to take him aside and explain a few ground rules to him just yesterday.

"There are already rumors. We don't need to add to them." She had said, though she couldn't help but smile at the adoring look he gave her.

"And what do we care about the gossip of kitchen maids and porters?" He had challenged, trying to steal a kiss.

She pushed him back slightly. "I don't care what people think, but I also don't want to be an exhibition either!"

That had given him pause. As a prince he was well accustomed to people scrutinizing his every move. And yes, he loved Lana with every fiber of his being, but she was right. He didn't wish to be on display. Besides, he had noticed some of the unattached soldiers — and even some servants — eyeing her. That would never do!

Ergo, he decided to be more tactful. As a result he started exploiting their connection as well.

It was better than making a show of their affections, Lana reasoned. She felt a ghost of sensation touch her and knew that Legolas was picking up on some of her emotions, if not her thoughts outright. She smirked up at him and moved to wrap her arm through his.

Legolas guided her to a chamber off the main throne room. Large windows facing south looked over the seventh ring of the citadel. Brilliant sunlight poured in, warming the dark wood furniture. Books and scrolls were stacked in shelves, and a large desk was neatly ordered. The winged crown sat on a satin cloth on the center of the desk. It gleamed majestically in the light.

Aragorn smiled and moved to greet them. Seeing him dressed in the finest clothes of the land still made Lana marvel. And it also made her aware of her rather humdrum apparel. After the pleasantries Lana jumped right to it.

"Thank you for ordering the dresses." She said warmly. It felt awkward to have this gift, but she knew it was Aragorn's way of showing his devotion and gratitude for their friendship. And realistically, without his patronage she would probably dress like a peasant forever. Or at least until Legolas gave her an allowance. It was odd not having a way to support herself. Something to ponder on later.

The new king's eyes gleamed with some humor. It seemed word had reached him of her episode with Ëarith. "Certainly. You have earned them."

Lana shrugged. "Yeah, I guess you're right." She tried to play it cool but started chuckling.

Shaking his head at her silliness, Aragorn gestured for her and Legolas to sit on a couch. He sat himself across from them a stately chair.

"It is time we came up with a suitable history for you," he announced. "As you have decided to stay in Middle Earth and not seek a way to your home," here Legolas reached for her hand and held it. "We must decide on how to explain your origins. Already I have had some inquires about you."

Lana nodded in full agreement. She quickly filled them both in on her conversation with Faramir and Éowyn and how she had tried to dodge their questions. The prying of Elrohir was also mentioned. She had decided that since Aragorn had initially introduced her as coming from London, she might as well stick with that. It would be too complicated for strangers to know any further details.

"In the end it wouldn't really make a difference — UK, US, neither of those places exist here." Lana said sitting back a bit. She kept her hand in Legolas'. "It just needs to be realistically far away to where people won't question its exact location."

While she knew this was all necessary, it still caused some ache in her heart. By now she had accepted her fate, and all that came with it. But this conversation hit home in a way that none before it had. She was formally saying good-bye to her world.

Sensing her sorrow, Legolas covered the hand he held and squeezed gently. She gave him a sad smile before looking back to Aragorn.

"I think it is wise to continue with the ruse that your country is a far off island. The world is wide, and even the greatest scholars do not know its full boundaries." Aragorn agreed.

Legolas added to this. "And you needn't fear about no one knowing who truly you are. We will always remember and honor your home and where you came from."

Touched Lana leaned in and kissed his cheek. "Thank you," she blinked back the telltale stinging in her eyes.

She never imagined how difficult this conversation would be. But it helped that her friend and fiancé were beside her. Internally she smiled as the word "fiancé" stirred up the fizzy warm feelings within her.

There had hardly been any time to let it sink in, but she was engaged! She wondered when they would share it with their friends. Her heart desired to bring it up now, but she would wait and discuss it with Legolas. There was surely a reason why he had kept silent on the matter.

Their conversation moved on how to explain her joining the Fellowship. It was decided that it made sense to say that she had been traveling in a group of merchants that had been waylaid by orcs. Lana was the only one to survive. They would never speak on how she was discovered in Moria as there was no reasonable explanation for it.

"Do you still remember nothing of how you came there?" Legolas asked, still curious about how she had arrived in Middle Earth.

Lana exhaled and closed her eyes. She searched her memory, and her lips grew thin. Finally she shook her head. "No, I don't recall much of anything. I still can't even really remember the day _before_ I arrived."

Opening her eyes she regarded them both. "I had been traveling in my mother's country — Ireland — just sightseeing, but the events that led up to my appearing here are still clouded. It's like there's some sort of door to those memories and I don't have the key." She frowned deeply.

"There is surely a reason for that, "Aragorn said gently. "Perhaps it will be revealed to you in time."

The words were kindly spoken but they did little to assuage the frustration this conversation had stirred up. She still wanted to _know_, even though she was resolved to stay. She wanted answers.

Their colloquy turned to other things. Lana perked up, happy to leave the disconcerting lack of memories alone. She didn't want to spoil the happiness she had now. It was hard won after all.

"Elladan and Elrohir left this morning for Imladris." Aragorn moved on to say with an undercurrent of excitement. They had left to bring word of that he had finally claimed his inheritance. That meant Arwen could now be his wife.

"How long before they return?" Lana asked smiling. It was rare to see her friend look giddy, but the prospect of seeing _his_ true love soon stirred the man into impatient anticipation.

"It could take six weeks. Rivendell is far north and west of here — on the other side of the Misty Mountains. And they will be slowed with baggage, I'm sure."

Lana smiled. "I can't wait to meet her."

Aragorn's eyes gleamed. "Nor I."

o0o

Legolas remained behind in the study with Aragorn once Lana left. Her smile had left a pleasantly warm glow in his heart, but her eyes held a wealth of mischief.

"If you're wondering where I am, just look for trouble and that's where I'll be."

This had made both the man and elf chuckle. Lana had then sent Legolas a deep look that he returned heatedly. It did not go missed by the Gondorian king.

Once alone Aragorn casually crossed one leg and rested his hand upon it. The Ring of Barahir glittered on his finger. He eyed Legolas expectantly.

"So _mellon nín, _is there some news that I should be privy to?"

The prince of elves looked nonchalant. "As king, I was certain you would have eyes and ears all over your domain."

The man snorted. "Oh indeed! Your father and king have nothing on me." His lips curved humorously. "Need I ask?"

Legolas' pretense broke and the elf grinned heartily. "She has consented to be my wife."

Aragorn grinned and leaned forward. "My congratulations. We should toast to it," pushing himself up he moved toward a sideboard that held a crystal decanter of golden wine. "It is no surprise to me," he continued passing a glass to the now standing elf. "Your love for each other shines like the stars."

Legolas lifted his glass, his lips still parted in a brilliant smile. "She is the very beacon who lights my way in the world, Estel."

The words were sincere, and it warmed Aragorn's heart, though he felt an undercurrent of sadness. Their marriage would one day end in tears. But now was a time for joy. Moving towards the desk, he glanced at the missives that were pilling up.

"Have you sent word to your father?"

Legolas took a full gulp of the wine before replying. "I have, though I made no mention of my intentions as of yet."

Aragorn couldn't hide his surprise.

"I would tell him in person," Legolas defended. "And have him meet Lana before he can have the opportunity to form any ill opinions of her." He stated firmly. His mind was made up on the matter and there was nothing that would sway him.

Perhaps that was wise. If anyone knew Thranduil it would be his son. Nevertheless, Aragorn did not envy the prince in this. When he had asked Elrond for Arwen's hand it had been the most nerve-wracking day of his life — the battle at the Black Gates not withstanding.

"I pray that all goes well," Aragorn replied sincerely, but they both knew that Thranduil would not be easily won over. The man made a sound of amusement then. "Though if anyone is capable of 'charming' Thranduil, I would place my bet on Lana. She will not let allow anyone to put her aside."

A familiar affection made Legolas smile. "Aye. She is a force of her very own."

While he had avoided thinking about it, he was certain Lana would give his father hell if he decided to be difficult. Which meant, she would probably break his renowned façade of icy coolness. Very few things could elicit a strong reaction from the ancient elf, but Legolas had no doubt that his betrothal to a mortal woman would set his father in a rage.

Part of him was actually looking forward to the confrontation. It was time to make a break from his king's control. His life was his own, and while he loved his father and was loyal to him, he would not choose Mirkwood over Lana.

"Do you have a ring for her?" Aragorn spoke interrupting his thoughts.

Legolas refocused his eyes on the man, then grinned. "Aye I will. Once you loan me some gold for it."

Aragorn threw back his head and laughed. "So it comes to me to make the initial blessing of your union?" He shook his head, the dark hair dusting his shoulders. "So be it! Consider it a pre-wedding gift."

The two of them finished the wine together, each sharing their hopes for the future, and cementing Legolas' plans to cleanse Ithilien and bring greenery to Minas Tirith. They also set their minds on Lana, and on a the next part of Legolas' secret plan.

o0o

It was becoming a ritual that after the evening meal, the Fellowship joined the King of Rohan and the Prince of Dol Amroth, at the invitation of the Steward to digestifs in the Stewards' garden — now the royal gardens.

These had been meticulously maintained over the years and were just as beautiful — if not more so — than the gardens in the Houses of Healing. Large fruit trees were laden with flowers, and hedges were left to their own devices so that they appeared natural and wild. An arbor tunnel led to a large belvedere, of which at the center was a large fire pit. There were three fountains in the garden and curving paths.

It was far larger than Lana had originally imagined it would be. It became her new favorite place for it reminded her of the English gardens in the British countryside. Royal purple bellflowers grew near the exotic looking columbines. Fuchsia coralbells looked like tiny fairy hats. Tall stalks of delphinium lent a stately air to the pathways, and these were coupled with foxgloves. But what Lana loved the most were the gorgeous scarlet morning glories that trailed over the arched trellis tunnel.

Whenever she found a stray bloom on the ground she would pick it up and tuck it into her hair. The brilliant orange-red of the flower contrasted nicely with her tresses. That evening however, Legolas had found a blue morning glory flower and he had set it behind her ear.

"Perfect," he murmured.

The heat in his eyes called to her and Lana had to look away before it captured her completely. It didn't stop the pleased blush from growing on her cheeks though. As the company meandered and chatted she remained close to Legolas.

However, she couldn't focus on the conversations. Guilt was eating her up on the inside. She tried to temper it, fearing that Legolas would pick up on the sentiment, but it was a lost cause. He cornered her at one point as she went to refill her glass with the sweet brandy that Faramir offered.

She jumped slightly when his hand curved gently under hair and around her neck.

_"Man presta le, meleth nín?" What troubles you, my love?_

She had half a mind to brush the question off, but she wondered if that would even be possible now. Daily their connection seemed to grow. Finishing pouring her drink she held up the crystal decanter in mute question.

He shook his head. Legolas was not much of a brandy drinker, but she always offered it to him regardless. Replacing the stopper she turned to him.

"I bought something today from the market…and I guess I'm having buyer's remorse." She revealed.

Legolas lifted a brow and waited for her to elaborate. Her guilt rose to a new level as she explained finding a rare spice and her split second decision to buy it. When she had discovered it she had coveted it more than dresses, shoes, jewelery, or anything else. In fact, she had come up with a brilliant idea of fixing one of her favorite drinks for Legolas using the exotic and highly priced spice. But she realized that this was probably going to be the most expensive chai tea she ever bought. And that rare spice that was now tearing up her conscience was cardamom.

"And how much did it cost?" Legolas asked. His tone betrayed nothing of his thoughts. Lana tried to see if she could read his emotions but felt nothing. He was annoyingly good at blocking her when he wished.

"Twenty gold pieces and eight silver." She mumbled looking into her brandy.

When he didn't say anything Lana glanced up at him. To her amazement he was biting back a smile.

"You're not angry?" She probed gently. "Based on Faramir and Éowyn's reactions, it was a lot of money."

Legolas chuckled then. "Well, that cannot be denied. I can say that I wouldn't have spent so much on a _spice_. But nay, I am not angry. But it is rather endearing that you would fear my wrath."

Lana snorted and then folded her arms across her chest. "Oh yes indeed. Laugh at your fiancé for being a conscientious shopper. I take it that in the future I needn't worry about prices!"

Legolas wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her in. His chest was vibrating with his amusement as his lips came closer to hers. Lana peaked around his shoulder to make sure no one was watching them. This only made his amusement grow.

"It pleases me that you seek to get the best deals in the market. I never thought I could add 'thrifty' to qualities for a wife — but my purse thanks you."

Lana pinched his arm making him grin further. "You behave!"

Legolas' eyes twinkled and he leaned in close so that his lips were by her ear. And in Sindarin he whispered, _"Never."_

o0o

Legolas studied his reflection as he nimbly braided his hair back. Tonight he would forgo the traditional warrior braids for a sleeker look of just a single braid down the back of his head. The braid held back half of his hair while the rest cascaded over his shoulders. It gleamed brightly as it had just been washed.

Tonight he wore the new tunic that had been commissioned for him of deep green silk. The textured fabric was skillfully embroidered with gold and silver threads at the collar and cuffs. It was low cut so that the deep V of the tunic ended midway down his chest. Beneath this he wore a black undershirt. It was a generous gift from Aragorn, who had it crafted especially for this night.

Legolas' eyes shifted to the small box on his bureau. The cherry wood had been darkly stained and highly polished. On the top had been carved the emblem of his house: three maple leaves overlaying wheel of ivy. In the center was a star.

Yet it was not the box itself that stirred the giddy nervousness within him, but what it contained. Of course he had nothing to fear. Lana had already accepted his proposal, but this — this would make it official. And he would have all his friends to bear witness to it.

Finished with his hair he straightened the tunic and threw a cape over his shoulders. This was made of fine lamb's wool dyed gray and edged with silver designs. He used the Lothlórien broach to pin it closed. Grabbing the box he tucked it into an inner pocket in his tunic.

Further down the hall, Lana was in her room adding the final touches to her make up. Her dresses had arrived the day before, and she had admired them extensively. But when Ëarith had presented her with a dress of unknown design Lana had wondered if it had been a mistake.

"Nay, my lady. This was commissioned especially for you."

Lana had knit her brows. "By who?"

"By your patron, of course!"

That ended _that_ discussion. But Lana had learned that the dress was to be worn for a special dinner this night. She had tried with little success to pry details out of her friends. Éowyn had been annoyingly evasive. And Legolas had merely smiled in a funny way all week that made butterflies take wing in her stomach.

Something was up — and it had to do with her.

"I feel so nervous!"

"Why?" Éowyn had asked as she arranged Lana's hair earlier.

"I don't know!" She had moaned in dismay. "I have a feeling that something is going to happen tonight."

She caught a curving in her friend's lips, which only made her suspicions grow.

"Well, it surely can't be all that bad. I am certain there is nothing to fret over." Éowyn had said demurely as she pinned Lana's curls up.

She had insisted on using curling tongs on Lana's hair. While Lana normally enjoyed primping and dressing up, the fact that Éowyn was essentially giving her a Middle Earth makeover added fuel to Lana's curiosity.

Now as she sat before her vanity she tried to keep a steady hand as she applied her make up. Deciding to go a bit bolder than she had dared in the past, she opted for a smoky cat's eye look. It was still subtle but gave her eyes a noticeable pop. It was much more becoming than the white powder the ladies of Gondor liked to use on their complexions.

Sitting back she observed her reflection. The specially commissioned gown was of a deep blue. The neckline cut horizontally across her chest and left the tops of her shoulders bare. The long sleeves hugged her arms and ended in a point over each middle finger. A girdle of what she hoped _wasn't_ real gold sat low on her hips.

The ornate links were decorated with abstract floral designs. The center clasp was a large lily flower encrusted with red gems. It was a bit much, and Lana had initially felt ridiculous in such a gaudy outfit, but Éowyn's cooing had assured her that she looked anything but silly.

The Shield Maiden had pounced on her jewelry and picked out the yellow bronze earrings for her to wear. The s-curve earrings were in the shape of wings, the feathers spiraling in a pleasing manner.

But Éowyn did not allow her to wear anything else. "It will be too much with the belt," she had said logically.

A knock at her door disrupted her thinking. Lana's heart leapt. She knew without answering who stood on the other side. Quickly smoothing the silky fabric of her dress, Lana checked her reflection one last time.

o0o

The door opened. Legolas felt his breath was stolen away. This wasn't the Lana he was used to seeing. Even in Edoras she hadn't looked this…_stunning._ His eyes greedily took in the way the blue dress clung to her. Aragorn had been right: silk was the way to go. It molded to her curves like water.

The curls fell in golden spirals down her shoulders. Half of them had been artfully twisted and woven on her head into a crown. The rest were free falling. The shadowing on her eyes made them look somehow larger and more slanted. Her lips were red and the urge to kiss them was nigh impossible to ignore.

He wasn't the only one staring. Lana made a thorough examination of his new attire as well and her mouth was dry. She was entirely too tempted to drag the elf into her room had have her way with him. To hell with fancy dinners!

"You look," Legolas searched for words that would capture the vision before him. _"Síladh sui elenath colluindû. Nalyë menelrîs. Bereth _nín_." _

_You shine like the stars cloaked with the night. You are the queen of heaven. _My _queen._

He took up her right hand and kissed it, never once dropping her gaze. He both felt and sensed her shiver of delight. And he reveled in the light blush the colored her cheeks.

"And you, _ernil nín…_I don't know how it came to be, but I am the luckiest woman in this world and in mine." She held his gaze. _"Tu sei il mio sole e le stelle, la luce della mia vita. Io sono sempre benedetto."_

_You are my sun and stars, the light of my life. I am forever blessed._

Though he knew not the words through their bond the meaning was conveyed. Legolas cupped her face. His joy knew no bounds. Tenderly his kissed her lips then spoke.

"Come."

Tonight their dinner was held under the stars in the Stewards' garden. A large table had been placed out on the lawn. Hundreds of candles in glass orbs glowed with fairy-like quality. In the sky, the fading sunset painted the heavens in pinks, oranges, and purples. The first stars made their appearance.

Legolas guided Lana through the flowering tunnel and he smiled as he heard her intake of breath. He watched as her eyes glittered with the light of the many candles. He felt her wonder and delight and she glanced up at him with a beautiful smile. He echoed her expression and together they entered the gardens under the eyes of their friends.

All who were there marveled at the couple, for no one had seen them look so fine. Legolas in his realm's colors and Lana in blue so deep, she moved like a wave of water. They looked regal together, as if they were meant rule.

"Well met, friends! It's nice to see you both make an effort for once!" Gimli hailed and laughter broke out among the friends.

The spell was broken and the evening progressed with high spirits. Lana smiled more that night than she had ever since arriving in Middle Earth. She was radiant, and it was plain to see that Legolas was devoted to her. At the same time, she would watch him with adoration, her expression always interested in what he had to say.

The Fellowship looked on with varying expressions of smug knowing to delighted surprise. For Frodo and Sam, it was a true wonder to see the mortal woman — who once had been so timid around Legolas — now smiling and leaning over to kiss his cheek. Gimli had told them how their friendship had blossomed into something more.

"But she is mortal," Frodo had murmured softly so the couple couldn't hear.

Gimli's joyful expression grew tempered. "Aye. Their ending will be a sad one."

No more was said on the subject.

At the end of the meal, when they had removed themselves to the belvedere, Aragorn claimed everyone's attention. His face held a warm expression as he looked on those gathered with him.

"I would propose a toast, in honor of one fine person," he began. "Her deeds have thus far gone unsung and unrecognized. Yet with out this lady, I would not be standing here before you."

Lana felt her face drain of color only to be immediately replaced with a screaming blush as Aragorn's eyes settled on her.

"When we first came upon Lana, she was lost and alone in the world. Yet it was Gandalf who saw within her the spark of some greatness within her. It was rather unwillingly she joined our dire quest, but her perseverance and loyalty to strangers cannot be compared. Indeed, she suffered many challenges to earn her place among us. But she rose to each one without fail.

"It was her bold actions in Helm's Deep where she risked her life for mine. Had she not disobeyed the orders of Théoden King, the orders of her companions, I might not be alive."

Lana ducked her head. Yet her lips curved with embarrassment.

"It was this lady who believed so strongly in her convictions and her sense of righteousness which drove her to once more follow us into battle. Although she nearly lost her life — twice — she has proven that she is not so easily dismissed. And so I lift my glass to Lady Lana Rey of the realm of London!"

The resounding _Here! Here!_ was nearly deafening to her. But her moment in the spotlight was not finished. It was Gimli who spoke next, followed by Merry and then Pippin. Each lauded her with praises that she felt were undeserved — and yet she was profoundly touched. Éowyn took her turn and remarked how Lana had befriended her even when she was lost within herself. Lana had touched her heart awakening it to the possibilities of life beyond despair.

"I am confident to say that had not Lana's friendship come to me, then I might have remained so cold as to miss my own opportunity for love."

Faramir also had a few words to say, which made the company laugh. Lana rolled her eyes as he recounted her encounter with the spice merchant from earlier in the week. His little speech made it known that she did not shirk from any battle — be it against orcs or over zealous merchants.

Then Gandalf stood and smiling down at her he said, "It is a mysterious fate which has brought you to us, but the Valar have smiled upon you. Know that they are not blind to you, my lady. And what little authority I have, I give you my blessing. May your days be long lasting and filled with joys unnumbered."

Tears of happiness were running down Lana's cheeks and she tried without success to dash them away. There were no words she could say. Her heart was so stunned and so overflowing with love that she could only give each person a heartfelt smile. When she thought that it was over Legolas stood. He drew her up to stand next to him.

"Behold the Lady! And she is more beautiful than words in tongues of Men or Elves can possibly say. What words you all have spoken, they are indeed true. Lana is truly a fine woman: courageous, intelligent, and kind. Her spirit shines as bright as the stars in the firmament." He turned and held her gaze.

"And I am honored and humbled by her as well, for she has consented to be my wife."

Immediately cheers and applause rang out. And Lana, who thought her face couldn't get any redder felt her cheeks flame hot. While she wanted to hide in Legolas' embrace she couldn't help but laugh.

Then he produced a small wooden box. Her heart skidded to a halt, jumped, then ran. He smiled down at her though her eyes were glued to the inconspicuous item. He opened it and a band of entwining silver flashed. Two threads of silver wove in and over each other, creating perfect circles in between. In each circle sat a tiny sapphire of the truest blue.

"With this ring, I pledge my betrothal to this most amazing of women before you all."

Lana's eyes filled once again with happy tears. She couldn't stop grinning as Legolas took her right hand and slide the ring onto her finger. The cool melt touched her skin, anchoring her to this reality — to this world. She stared at it in wonder. A million and one thoughts sped through her mind yet she couldn't make sense of a single one — except her love for Legolas.

Lifting her eyes up to him she grabbed his collar and pulled him down for a deep searing kiss. Their friends cheered again, teasing remarks flew in the air above them.

For Lana and Legolas, it was the start of a new adventure.

_**Fin**_

* * *

_Well dear readers, that's it for _Invictus._ That you so much for coming on this first adventure with Lana and Legolas. I know you're impatient for the sequel, but it's coming! And it will include nifty things like: weddings! Lana vs Thranduil showdown; the rebuilding of Ithilien and so much more juicy goodness! So keep an eye out._

_You can keep abreast of the sequel's progress by checking my profile page each month. I'm writing as quickly as I can, but I won't sacrifice the story for speed. I promise it will come out as soon as possible. :)_

_And as always, thank you — to each and every one of you for reading and reviewing!_

_Cheers!_

_TI_


End file.
